


Akumin gimlaz

by draconic_doc



Category: Stardust - Neil Gaiman, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Chases, Escapes, Gandalf the benign meddler, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Rating May Change, Slow Burn, Stardust!AU, Thorin Fili and Kili and stars, adventuresome hobbits, ghostly prince peanut gallery, hinted Fíli/Bofur that doesn't really go anywhere, warnings at the beginning of each chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-09
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-01-24 03:09:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 74,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1589489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/draconic_doc/pseuds/draconic_doc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nobody crosses the Wall.  But Belladonna Took has other plans and does just that.  Years later, her son Bilbo Baggins also crosses the wall, chasing after a fallen star for his cousin Lobelia and his true heritage.  He expects to find a hunk of valuable metal, not this grumpy, stately dwarf. He also does not expect to be chased across the land by orcs, encounter a bunch of Ereborian princes trying to restore the Arkenstone and become king, get captured by a jovial band of pirates, or find the love of his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Over the Wall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big hello to whomever may be reading this! I've long been a fanfic reader, and this is my first time writing any major creative works. I apologize if my style gets technical at times; I've been writing mostly science papers and school essays for years now. Anyways, I got this crazy idea for a Hobbit/Stardust crossover after having a dream about the start of it and thought "I wonder if anybody has done this." A quick search revealed not much, so I decided to write my own version. I'll post individual warnings at the start of each chapter and leave other notes for the ends of the chapters.
> 
> Chapter 1 additional warnings: violence

**Chapter 1 – Over the Wall**

 

Belladonna, in a surge of Tookishness - and perhaps a little nudging from an old friend - had gone over the wall. Nobody crossed the wall – it just wasn’t done. Hobbits were not made for the wide world. Belladonna Took would have none of it. The world was larger than her small, closed town. In all of her studies, she never found anything about the strange, unknown world across the wall. Every map she came across had a border at the wall with blank space beyond. So over the wall she went to sate her curiosity.

A few miles from the wall, she found cobbles here and there dispersed throughout the path. “How curious,” she thought, “there must be a town nearby. No maps show any villages in the wilderness bordered by the wall.” Oh, but there was a village, called Bree, if the sign that appeared around the same time the cobbles completely took over the dirt path was to be believed.

Bree was a bustling place. As she looked around herself, Belladonna could see that there were many inns, taverns, shops, and a wagon-filled bazaar. Her interest was drawn particularly by a brightly colored wagon of yellow and orange where a dwarf sat on the steps, whittling away at something. She stopped over and he looked up at her with a grin. “And what would a lovely little lass such as yerself be int’rested in, eh? I’ve not seen any of yer folk ‘round here b’fore.”

“Why hello, master dwarf! I’m sure you haven’t seen many of my kind. Hobbits generally don’t leave the Shire as the world is a fast and dangerous place full of big people who would trample us and take advantage of us.   But I believe there is more to it than that. Surely there is beauty and wonder to be found.”

“Oh, aye, I’d believe that. In fact, there’s one standin’ in front of me right now, I’d reckon.”

Belladonna blushed. “Oh, I don’t know…I’ve always been considered rather bland and reckless by my peers.”

“Hm…I don’t know about bland, but reckless you must be for travelin’ all the way out o’ the safety of your cage, little bluebird. Here, I ‘ave just the thing yeh need!”

He rummaged around for a bit below the counter, mumbling to himself in a language Belladonna did not know. “Aha! Here yeh are!” He popped back up holding the shiniest silver flower she had ever seen. Belladonna gasped as she recognized the substance.

“Is that-“

“Mithril? Aye. Rarest o’ substances in all the world! They say it is formed by stars fallin’ outside o’ Arda! I made this one meself, and it’s guaranteed t’ protect yeh from all sorts of magics.”

“Is that what this place is called?”

“Aye, that’d be our little realm. Filled with many a kingdom and many a people, some less hospitable than others.”

“Well I’d say I’ve found one such hospitable lad. How much for the mithril flower?”

The dwarf leaned close. “I’m actually a prince who’s been captured by a skulking witch. Little goblin of a fellow, he is. Keeps babblin’ about fish and his precious, whate’re that is.” Belladonna heard a soft clink and looked down to his hands. She gasped as she saw a light chain binding them, trailing all the way back to the wagon. “Set me free, lassie?”

His gaze was so imploring and he seemed like a wonderful young chap. He certainly was fairly persuasive. So Belladonna took out her knife and broke the chain. “There, I’ve done it!” She smiled at him, but noted the sad, longing gaze was still there. He nodded back down to the chain in her hands. With a slithering metallic sound, the chain found the cut ends slinking back together and re-fusing. “I’m sorry. It appears I cannot free you, mister-.”

“Ach, where are my manners?!” He swept into the most exaggerated bow with a flourish of his hand. “Gimonul, at yer service, but my friends just call me Gí.”

Belladonna smiled and curtseyed back. “Belladonna Took, at yours and your family’s. All right, Gí. Is there any other way I might pay you?”

He grinned and suddenly got quiet, looking down at his feet bashfully. After a moment, he looked up and blushed as his eyes met hers. “Well, a kiss from a lovely lady would certainly do.”

Belladonna laughed and kissed the dwarf on the cheek. But when she did, she felt such a fire ignite in her soul. Oh, but certainly that wasn’t good enough. So she grabbed his beard and pulled him forward to give him a full, proper kiss. Climbing over the counter, she pulled him back towards the wagon, and shut the door behind them. They didn’t emerge for several hours.

* * *

 

Weeks passed and the wagon left Bree. Belladonna followed, spending as much time with Gimonul as she could.   She had encountered his captor once or twice in the town. She called him Gollum after the strange coughing sound he always seemed to be making. Odd fellow, seemed quite content to talk with himself when not ordering Gí around in a threatening manner. However, he generally had a dangerous glint in his eyes. Belladonna didn’t trust him, so she kept her presence around the wagon a secret.

So she and Gí would meet at night behind the wagon while Gollum slept. He would always bring something he was working on – her pack was starting to fill with all sorts of little wooden figures, expertly carved and sanded smooth with care. Occasionally he would complain about this or that task Gollum had assigned him, this or that manner of treatment, and Belladonna would press loving kisses to the bruises left by the chain as Gollum jerked him about.

She, in turn, would tell him all about her travels that day. The different landforms she saw, the various people she met on the road. She began to complain about mornings in particular. She would wake up tired and feeling sick, but the feeling would soon pass. It wasn’t until a few more weeks had gone by that she discovered her pregnancy. Gí could not contain a cry of joy when she told him the news, and unfortunately this woke Gollum.

“What’s this, precious? Filthy dwarvses in the night, yeeees? _Gollum! Gollum!_ Trying to free our captive for ransom? Thieves! We hates them!!” He lept at Belladonna with a feral growl, pinning her to the ground in a chokehold.

Gí panicked. He frantically looked around for something, anything to help his love. There was nothing in reach besides his evening’s carving work. He threw it as hard as he could at Gollum’s head, dazing him and knocking him off Belladonna.

Belladonna coughed and he helped her up. He then quickly handed her her pack and bid her run. “Go! Save yerself and the babe! Return to yer haven across the wall! I’ll never ferget yeh, my jewel. Now run! Don’t worry ‘bout me, I’ll be fine. But promise me to live! May we meet again, Valar willing!”

Spurred on by the growls of a freshly oriented and enraged Gollum, she ran and didn’t look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, you may have noticed/will notice later that the princes' names are derived from neo-khuzdul numbers. Because it just doesn't make sense for them to have Latin contexts. I'll post translations for any khuzdul bits I decide to use here at the ends of the chapters.
> 
> Chapter 1 translations:  
> Akumin Gimlaz - Stardust (literally, dust of (origin) stars  
> Gimonul - literally, eight-like; Octavus


	2. Chapter 2: The Scandal and a Matter of Inheritance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belladonna returns to the Shire. And then there's the matter of succession in Erebor years later.

**Chapter 2 – A Scandal and a Matter of Inheritance**

A couple months after vanishing from the Shire, a very bedraggled and tattered-looking Belladonna crept back over the wall, hand protectively around her middle. The townsfolk gasped, for they had assumed her dead. Then they noticed her condition and tutted. Trust a Took to go wandering into unknown lands and come back pregnant! Had the lady no sense of respectability?

Days later, the gossip about Belladonna was running as strong as ever, and now rumors were circulating about the upbringing of her siblings, too. Surely Gerontius, Thain of the Shire, and Adamanta Took would have raised their children better!

Gerontius decided to turn to an old friend for advice, so he went to visit Laura Baggins for afternoon tea. One look at his distraught expression and she ushered him inside and in no time had a cup of her famous blend of chamomile and linden and some fresh scones before him.

“Laura…I just don’t know what to do anymore. Bella’s a good girl. She…she would never do anything to dishonor herself. Now, I don’t know what happened over the wall, but she’s always been a respectable lass. This fellow she must have met…he must have been something special to her. But she’s gone and locked herself in her room. Seeing her spirit’s flame burning so low…I can hardly manage, and Adamanta’s beside herself with worry. Bella won’t even talk to us. I want to help her, but...oh, Laura. What should I do?”

Laura sat back and hummed for a moment, thinking. As the current matriarch in the Baggins family, she was used to hobbits of all stations coming to her and asking for advice on propriety and respectability. The Thain and his family were no different. She also couldn’t stand to see old friends in distress. “Well, for starters, the poor lass will certainly not find help from most hobbits for her now, given her condition. Her adventurous spirit has always been hard for them to swallow, and now with this on top of it all, I fear Belladonna’s honor will forever be in question by our society.

“But there may yet be a way to restore her reputation-” She looked pointedly toward the shadows beside the coal stove where she was certain her son hid away to hear all about the goings-on in Hobbiton whenever she thought he was in his room studying is geography “-if someone would have pity on her and marry the girl.”

A startled clatter as the woodpile fell over and Bungo Baggins emerged from the fallen logs. “I will do it! Mother, if she will have me, I will marry Belladonna Took!” And with that he dashed out the door to go find her. For though it pained his heart that she had clearly been with another, he had always admired Belladonna for her courage and spontaneity. He of the whole town was the only one who thought she wasn’t strange, and dare he think it, love her for it.

Gerontius and Laura shared a knowing look. “Ah, to be young and in love again.”

 

* * *

 

Belladonna told Bungo all about Gimonul as soon as they were wed. Weddings take some time to plan, even when rushed so that her dignity would be saved before the child was born. But on the night of their wedding, as Bungo was lovingly caressing her swollen midsection, she asked him, “Have I ever told you of Gimonul?”

“Gimonul….no, I’d think I’d recall that name. Was he a pet of yours?”

Belladonna laughed. “Oh, good heavens, no. When I went over the wall, I met the most amazing dwarf. He was imprisoned and forced into servitude by this strange creature called Gollum.” She shuddered then. “Oh, that Gollum was a horrible being. I think he may have been a cannibal, too. Anyways, Gí is the one who-“

“He’s the father of your child.”

“Yes.”

Bungo sprang up with anger in his eyes. “Then he shouldn’t have left you to wander back here on your own! Why, the condition of your return, it’s unspeakably horrid! I oughta wring the bastard’s-“

“Bungo Baggins, you stop right there! I’ll not have anyone speaking poorly of my dwarf! He tried to defend me! When that Gollum found me a few weeks later, I suddenly found my life in danger as the creature attacked me! If it weren’t for Gí, I, and this child, would be dead. I ran for my life with tears in my eyes as he shouted for me to go, go back to my town beyond the wall, go and live! And-oh….Bungo, go get the midwife. I think it’s…oh!”

Bungo panicked. This was his fault. The baby was coming early because he’d gotten Belladonna all worked up and everyone knows stress is not good for expectant mothers.

What seemed like ages later, the cries of a newborn infant were heard coming from their bedroom. The child, while perhaps a bit hairier in the feet than usual, clearly took after his mother’s people more, though time would tell more about that. They named him Bilbo and Bungo swore to raise him with Belladonna as if he were his own. They never told Bilbo about Gimonul.

 

* * *

 

Thirty-three years later, Durin the Deathless lay dying (ironically) in his bed in the tallest tower of the castle of Erebor. Rumor had it that he had found the heart of a star, which had granted him his relative immortality. After all, his royal insignia featured an arch of seven stars. There must be some significance behind that. But such things are gossip, and gossip, while exciting, cannot necessarily be believed. What the dwarves of Erebor didn’t know was that there was some truth to this one. And Durin’s star-power had run out.

Three of his seven sons were gathered before him. There was the issue of which would be his successor. “Where is Nulu Broadbeam?” Durin rasped. “Late as usual, my second born.” A fit of coughing racked his frail figure and the son with bright orange hair stepped forward to assist him, but Durin waved him aside. “Leave me, Gemul Firebeard. I am dying, and I have dwelled here long enough. My soul can linger not much longer.”

The doors burst open as Nulu strode in, cape fluttering about his feet. “Father! I came as soon as I heard the news. Which of us is to be king?”

“Have you no sense of punctuality, brother?”

“Ah, Zelu Longbeard! I see we are all here!

“Yes, and we’ve been waiting for hours.” The fourth and final remaining brother stepped out of the shadowy recess, fiddling with a braid as black as a raven’s feathers in boredom.

“Now, now, Hadudul Blacklock, play nice. Let father speak,” admonished Nulu.

Hadudul bowed mockingly. “As you wish, oh eldest one.”

Durin chuckled at their bickering. Then he removed the dragon amulet from around his neck. He spoke a few words in ancient Khuzdul and it began to glow and hover in the air before him. It had been carved from the Arkenstone and thus held a certain degree of magic about it. As the brothers watched, astounded at the power before them, the dragon turned from milky irridescent to ruby-red. “The Arkenstone’s opalescent hue can only be restored by one of Durin’s line. Whosoever does so shall rule…Erebor…in my….plaaaaaace…..” Durin expelled his last breath and his eyes glazed over.

The four princes glanced at each other and they all simultaneously lunged for the amulet. Zelu thought for sure he had it, but as soon as his fingers chanced near the thing, it became wreathed in blue flames and whizzed out the open window to soar into the heavens. Nulu ran to the window to watch it in order to best extrapolate where it would fall. He shouldn’t have leaned out so far – his expression turned from calculating to stunned confusion didn’t leave his face until he hit the ground at the foot of the tower.

Nulu’s ghost awoke and looked to his left and right. “Armukhul Ironfist! Ghamekhul Stiffbeard! Geshul Stonefoot! You’re alive!”

Armukhul and Ghamekhul exchanged a look and Geshul shook his head. “No, brother…we are not.”

Understanding dawned on Nulu as he looked down from his seat in the rafters at his three live brothers. “Damn it, Hadudul. Really? Really?!”

“Best get used to it,” said Armukhul. The other two nodded at him. “It’s quite amusing watching the mortals run about. Who knew life was so dramatic?”

Nulu nodded pensively, then frowned. “What about Gimonul?”

Armukhul turned back to Nulu. “What of our youngest brother?”

“I don’t see him among us. Has he grown tired of watching Arda?”

Geshul chuckled and shook his head. “No,he has not grown tired of it. He still remains below, bound in servitude to Gollum since the day slavers kidnapped him in the market long ago.”

Nulu’s mouth dropped open. How many years had it been? What had happened that day…ah yes. Gimonul had been missing for days and the investigation finally resulted in a body found. Nulu, like the rest of Durin’s family, had believed the disfigured body the guards pulled up from the well had belonged to his brother. The unfortunate lad had been wearing Gí’s signature beads. Of course the guards would have identified the body as his. He must have been some common thief instead.

Nulu’s attention returned to the room below. So…his youngest brother was still alive. And none of the other living brothers knew it!

‘Five down, two more go,’ thought Hadudul as he, Zelu, and Gemul left the room, cloaks swirling, to depart on their mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 khuzdul
> 
> Gimonul - eighth (Octavus)  
>  Nulu - second (Secundus)  
>  Gemul - third (Tertius)  
>  Zelu - first (Primus)  
>  Hadudul - seventh (Septimus)  
>  Armukhul - fourth (Quartus)  
>  Ghamekhul - fifth (Quintus)  
>  Gashul - sixth (Sextus)
> 
> A question for my readers: for the princes' names, should I repost the khuzdul bases in each chapter end note when they appear or should I just leave a note to refer back to this chapter if you can't remember them?


	3. A Star Has Fallen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disaster and panic in the celestial abode and Lobelia has a "little chat" with Bilbo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: mentions of homophobia and fear of stigma

**Chapter 3 – A Star Has Fallen**

Up in the heavens, three stars in a constellation flickered. Unbeknownst to the mortals of Arda, they were deeply engrossed in a conversation about the merits of enthusiasm. Having gazed down for decades, the youngest of the three brightly shone as he babbled about enthusiasm’s tendency to bestow more courage in testing situations. His brother, twinkling merrily beside him in his binary system, remarked on how it also made for a good leadership quality, for a leader with enthusiasm about his or her task is more likely to inspire followers by demonstrating a passion for the cause.

The oldest of the three, having resided in the heavens for millennia, shook his head. No, he didn’t much believe in the power of enthusiasm. Yes, the other two had valid points, but too many times had he seen mortals go to their deaths on the wings of enthusiasm. Too many times did they leap forward nearly blindly into situations only to suffer the dire consequences. No, enthusiasm was more dangerous than helpful when left untempered.

“Aww, Uncle…you’re no fun….” Said the youngest star.

“Yes, well, you two need to-“ The oldest star was cut off as his attention was drawn to a sudden, dim light. He didn’t know of any anticipated births looming, so it likely wasn’t a new star. And it was too early in the celestial timespan for the comet to pass through their constellation. And it was getting larger. It was moving too quickly! The binary stars were in danger!

“Fíli! Kíli!” shouted the older star. He jumped towards them, sending them away from the path of the foreign object. But as he pushed the two aside, he was struck by the thing, which turned out to be a flaming amulet. As he fell to Arda, the oldest star thought to himself how strange it was for such a device to be up here. And then he remembered what had happened to his father and grandfather when they and many other stars were struck out of the sky by the comet Azanulbizar.

 

* * *

 

A constellation over, Fíli burst through a nebula, frantically looking around as if searching for someone. He went down with a _wumph!_ as his brother bowled into him, looked around as well and then pointed. “There!” Kíli helped his brother up and they ran over to another older star.

“Mother! It got –“ “-Uncle Thorin, and-“ “and there was this _phawwwww_ and it was like _wooosh_ and-“ “-and now he’s-“ “-burst of blue fire!” “-we’ve got to-“ _CRACK!_

The two binaries groaned. Their mother, Dís, had shoved their heads together. But they were modeled after dwarves, and they seemed to have thick skulls, so she knew her sons would be fine. “You know I can’t understand your stories when you’re both speaking at once. Now, Fíli, what happened.”

“It came with fire and death, mother!”

“What came?”

“The thing! Out of nowhere. It was headed for us, but Uncle jumped at us and saved us, but it got him instead!”

“ _WHAT?!_ Lead me to him. I’ll fix up my fool brother in no time and-“ she stopped as Kíli grabbed her arm, halting her movement.

“You can’t mother. He….he fell to Arda.”

Dís swore under her breath. “Well, there’s nothing we can do now but watch him and make sure that witch who murdered your grandfather and greatgrandfather and devoured their hearts is gone. Mahal, keep my brother safe. Send him help, please. He’s too stubborn to ask for it, but the world down there is not kind to fallen stars.”

 

* * *

 

Back in the Shire, Lobelia Bracegirdle awakened. Grumbling as she rolled out of bed and her bare feet hit the cold hardwood floor, she went to investigate whatever noise had woken her. She looked up and down the street from her smial’s round window and spotted nothing. With a pinched expression, as if she had bit down on something unexpectedly sour, she went to close the shutters again. And then she stopped. Up in the sky, she saw a white streak of light forming and then touching down to the earth. A star! A star had fallen! It was a well known fact that mithril, the rarest and most precious of metals, only came from stars. And now she had one in her sights. And she wanted it.

 

* * *

 

“Bilbo Baggins!”

Bilbo sighed at the counter. He knew that shriek anywhere. Lobelia used to be such a nice hobbit lass. Until she set her sights on his cousin, Otho. Then she became a conniving, selfish, greedy little – no. He was a shop clerk. Much as he disliked her snootiness now, she was still a customer. Bilbo steeled his nerves and put on his best fake-polite smile ever. “Lobelia! How can I help you today? Hey! You can’t just-“ Bilbo spluttered as she yanked him over to a corner seat hard.

“Bilbo.” She folds her hands conspiratorially in on the table in front of her. “Last night, a star fell beyond the wall.”

“Yeah? And what does that have to do with me?” Bilbo was suspicious now.

“Everyone knows your mother crossed the wall. And you share her blood. I want _you_ to go find it, retrieve it, and bring it to _me_.”

Bilbo’s jaw dropped. Then he realized he must look like a trout and shut it with a snap. “No.”

“No?”

“I’m a Baggins – _hm!_ – of Bag End.” He put up a finger as if to illustrate a point. “We most certainly _do not_ go gallivanting off over the wall willy-nilly on some hare-brained adventure! It just isn’t done! It would ruin my reputation.”

Lobelia smirked and leaned forward. “So…you’re worried about your reputation?” Her eyes gleamed as she saw his confused expression. “I saw what you and that Brandybuck lad were…up to…last night in the stables. You wouldn’t want me to tell the Thain your little secret, would you?” Bilbo paled. The Shirefolk were not open to such activities, and once outed, people with Bilbo’s leanings were typically shunned and hated for the rest of their lives.

“You wouldn’t. I would lose my job! And after father died, you know mother has been unable to work. We wouldn’t be able to pay the upkeep on Bag End! We’d go homeless and starve because nobody would help me, let alone her!”

“Calm down, Bilbo. If you get me that star and bring it here, I won’t tell. Not a peep.”

Bilbo glared at her. “So this is blackmail.”

She waved a hand in the air settling back with a sigh. “Blackmail is such a dirty word. I much prefer to call it…tactful persuasion.”

Bilbo let out an exasperated sigh. “Fine. I’ll get you your star.”

“There’s a good lad.” They shook hands. Bilbo took off his apron and hung it on its peg. He was heading out the door. “And Bilbo?” He stopped and tilted his head to show he was listening. “You have exactly one week. One week to fetch my star. If you don’t return by sunset, I will make my little visit with the Thain.” Bilbo nodded and strode out of the shop on his way home.


	4. The Adventure Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo talks with his mother and Gandalf and embarks on his mission to Arda. Fíli and Kíli act without thinking through it first.

**Chapter 4**

Bilbo got home and looked down at his feet and sighed. ‘Dusty already, and I haven’t even left Hobbiton. Well, Bilbo, this is a fine mess you’ve landed in. I knew I shouldn’t have been so Tookish last night. Ah, but there’s nothing for it. What’s done is done and now you must go dashing off over the wall.’ He squared his shoulders and went in to his home.

He expected his mother to be sitting in the kitchen, sipping her afternoon tea and eating scones. What he hadn’t expected, was the tall being sitting across the table from her. Funny fellow with a strange hat. ‘Haven’t I seen him somewhere before?’ Bilbo thought to himself.

“Belladonna, you’ve changed. And I’m not entirely sure it’s for the better. Whatever happened to the lass I knew who leapt over the wall and came back with the biggest adventure yet before her?”

“She died four winters ago with her husband. Gandalf, you know that, you were there to console Bilbo and me when Bungo passed.”

‘Ah yes, Gandalf.’ Bilbo remembered now. ‘Jovial fellow. Excellent fireworks. Haven’t seen those in ages.’

“Have you told Bilbo?”

“Told him what?”

“The truth. About his _real_ father.”

“-I…”

‘My real father?’ Bilbo was confused. ‘Wasn’t Bungo my father?’ He couldn’t take it anymore. He decided to stop eavesdropping and make his return noticed. “Mother? What do you have to tell me?”

“Oh, Bilbo, you’re home. How was the shop? Did Ha-“

“Lobelia cornered me and now I have to cross the wall and bring back a fallen star in a week.”

Belladonna’s mouth dropped open. Gandalf leaned forward with a fire in his eyes. “Did you say…fallen star? Hm, yes. Very interesting…this will be good for you, Bilbo Baggins, I think. And most amusing for me.”

Belladonna shook her head and beckoned Bilbo to join them. She took her time pouring him a cup of tea and preparing it just the way he liked it. Two sugars, and plenty of cream, thank you very much! Once Bilbo had taken a sip and she saw his full attention was on her, she finally told him the story. She told him about crossing the wall. About finding Bree. About her time with Gimonul. About her mad scramble back to the Shire. And when she was finished, she gave Bilbo her very own pack, still with the essentials ready in case she ever could leave and find her dwarf again. She also gave him the loop of magic chain she had cut so many years ago.

Bilbo looked excited now. His real father. He could finally meet him! Maybe if he found him in Bree, he could help Bilbo find the star! Surely he would have found a way to escape from that awful Gollum creature by now! “I can cut across country fast enough!” he said, setting down his walking stick with a light thump.

Belladonna and Gandalf sighed. “Look at you. All grown up.” She pulled him in for a hug and Gandalf tussled his thick curly hair. “Now then. I think this wizard may have something to aid your journey.”

Gandalf chuckled and reached into his robes. He pulled out a large black candle and handed it to Bilbo. “This is a Belegost Candle.”

“Well, this is lovely, but what does it do?”

“Yes, I was about to get to that.” Gandalf cleared his throat. “When you light it, hold a fixed thing or person in your mind and you will instantly travel to that location.”

“How very strange! But this sounds like it will take a lot of time off my trip. I may yet have a chance to get back in a week. Farewell, mother! Farewell, Gandalf! I’m off on an adventure!”

And with those last words, Bilbo lit the candle. In a flash of light, he vanished, leaving nothing but a few drops of dark wax where he last was.

 

* * *

 

Fíli and Kíli strode moodily back toward their constellation. “There’s no way we can’t help,” Fíli said as he flopped on his bed.

“This may sound crazy, but-“

“Kí, your ideas are always crazy.”

“Are not!”

“Are too!”

“Are not!”

“Asteroid bowling.”

“…okay, you have a point there. But seriously! I have an idea!”

“Fine, fine, I’m listening. What’s your crazy plan?”

“What if we went down to protect him?”

Fíli stared at him. “That’s…”

“Aww…I thought it was one of my better ideas.”

“No! I was going to say it’s brilliant! We can leave any time and we know where Uncle fell, we watched him hit Arda! We can go join him and guide him back!”

The two jumped from the heavens then, landing shortly after Thorin had left his crater, failing to notice he had company. Upon landing in a dusty pile, they picked themselves up, dusting off their cloaks. “Uh, Fí?”

“Yeah, Kí?”

“How do we get back?”

Fíli gazed up at the stars twinkling ahead, oblivious as of yet to their absence. Then he got a look of concern and focused on his brother again. “I don’t know. Hopefully Uncle Thorin will be there to pull us out of trouble again.”

“Aww, don’t worry, Fí!” Kíli fondly put an arm around his shoulder. “Since when is Uncle not there for us!”

Fíli didn’t share his excitement, but he nodded and gazed off into the distance after tracks that certainly belonged to his Uncle. And another set of tracks mingled with his that certainly didn’t. ‘Odd,’ he thought as he squatted down to gaze at them, tracing an outline lightly so as not to disturb them. ‘This fellow seems to walk without shoes. Well, at least we know Azog wore boots. Hopefully this creature, whoever it may be, isn’t hostile. I hope Uncle hasn’t fallen into danger so soon.’

But he could only hope. He thought back to their last conversation. Maybe Uncle was right. Maybe too much enthusiasm wasn’t such a good thing, after all. His deep thoughts were broken by Kíli scuffling beside him. “Mom’s gonna kill us when we get home. If we get home.”

Fíli patted Kíli’s arm. “I’ll look out for you, little brother. And you’ll look out for me. Together, we’ll find Uncle and get all three of us back.” He glanced up at their blank patch in the constellation. ‘Strange. The family looks so small up there. Don’t worry, Amad. I’ll look after Kí. We’ll be back soon.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4 khuzdul:
> 
> Amad - mother
> 
> This is all I have for now. I will try to post regularly, as I have an outline! I can't give you all an estimate yet on how long it will take between chapters from here on out, but know that I won't abandon this work - I'm too excited on what's coming later! Coming next in chapter 5: Thorin is grumpy and he thinks he may have broken or at least sprained an ankle, Bilbo is confused, and a prince is poisoned.
> 
> A shoutout to my wonderful beta waywardworldhopper! This is much better thanks to her excellent proofreading and commentary on my ideas.


	5. Shaky Beginnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, that took longer than expected! I apologize for the delay in this. Graduation is happening and I was done with finals, so I was like "Oh yeah, all the busy-ness of senior is done, right?" Ha. Haha. You don't expect all the work that goes into final moving out and sorting out end of college things like 'This is how you deal with student loans' and 'My parents are in town for a week, we need to do things!' (Which is fine and all. I love my parents, but doing stuff all the time is so exhausting)
> 
> Also, one last bit of this longer-than-intended ramble: yes, we're going back in time a bit. When I was writing the last chapter, Fíli and Kíli were going "No, you want to write us now!" and jumped ahead of the rest of the plot with their crazy plan, but from here on out, events will be linear (probably).
> 
>  
> 
> So anyways, here is chapter 5!
> 
> Chapter warnings: minor character death, slightly graphic depictions of poisoning

**Chapter 5 – Shaky Beginnings**

Night wrapped Dol Guldur in a hazy shroud, but the fortress was far from dead in the darkest hours of the night. A thousand torches spluttered throughout the fortress, ensconced in knife-edged brackets that gave the castle an air of hostility. Light battled with shadow around the edges of the castle and deep within its recesses, and the smoke exuded from the torches and furnaces in the depths of the stronghold was thick enough to obscure the light from the stars overhead.

Dol Guldur’s inhabitants were about as hospitable as their dwelling place – that is to say, not at all. Orcs prowled its halls, Goblins skittered across the walls and parapets, and wargs quarreled in the barracks. Rumor has it there were even some trolls who tended the furnaces and opened the massive gates to the keep. The largest of goblins happened to be lounging at the top of one of the towers, attended by a handful of misshapen underlings.

He was huge and covered in numerous festering boils with a large wattle from goiter protruding below his chin, and a crown of bone spurs adorned his head. And he was currently thinking of the best way to stir up a bit of trouble in some nearby farmlands. There must be some way to reduce the monotony of peace. Perhaps he would unleash the three newest trolls on some nearby farmlands and have them bring back the villagers for sport.

His musings were cut short as a roar built up in the sky and the light outside grew brighter. That couldn’t possibly be torches, for the glow was blue, not orange. “What the blazes is going on here?!” he squawked, stepping down from his throne-like chair, using four smaller goblins as a stepping stool. He waddled over to the window, gullet swinging, and gazed out. His eyes widened with shock and then glittered as a trail of blue fire descended and passed over the fortress, falling some distance away with a bright flash that made him squint.

“Grinnah!”

A smaller goblin with long limbs and a pinched expression scuttled forward and bowed. “Yes, your malevolence?”

“Send word to Azog – a star has just fallen. We have work to do!”

 

* * *

 

Falling. Thorin was falling. It was too bright to see anything, too loud to hear anything, but there was no mistaking the cocoon of warmth around him, growing hotter by the second, and the increasing pull of gravity. He prayed that he had shielded his nephews from the rogue object in time and that they yet remained in their constellation and weren’t plummeting beside him. He was disoriented, tumbling head over heels through the atmosphere over Arda. Or at least he hoped it was Arda. If it wasn’t, this would be the shortest bout of worr-

 

Groaning, Thorin opened his eyes. Overwhelming, painful brightness greeted him, and he covered his face with his hands as he sat up, leaning forward to let a curtain of hair fall over it and cast enough shadow to allow his vision to slowly adjust. Scowling, he soon brushed his hair back and surveyed his surroundings.

For one thing, it was daylight. It was probably early morning, judging by the still lingering colors of the sunrise to the east. He sat in a large, bowl-shaped depression at the end of a long gouge in the earth upon a scalloped slab of glassy rock. He could see some pines over the walls of the crater. So, here he was, somewhere in a forest in Arda – that much he knew by the fact that he was still alive. But where was here? Well, it was best to get moving. He had to find a way to return home. He would _not_ suffer the same fate as his father and grandfather.

As Thorin moved to stand up, pain shot up his right leg from his ankle. He shifted most of his weight to his left leg and bent down feel the injury. The bones seemed intact, so it was probably just sprained. As he straightened, a glitter in the sunlight caught his eye. He cautiously strode towards it to find a pendant on a chain, all covered in dust. He picked it up and brushed it off enough to inspect the details. A gold dragon, on a delicate but strong gold chain, and in the dragon’s clutches was a smooth, blood red stone. So…this must have been the object that knocked him out of the sky.

Suddenly, there was a loud _bang!_ and Thorin was knocked to the ground again by a sudden weight on his chest. Blinking, he realized that weight was a person. “Father?” Startling hazel eyes met his steel blue ones, but Thorin was too confused to speak. “Oh, Father! I’m so sorry! Here…let me help you up.” Dirty blond curls brushed his nose as the stranger rolled off of him and stood up.

Thorin shook his head and leaned forward, propped on his elbows. The stranger extended a hand to him. Thorin glared at it and growled “Do I _look_ like your father?” Grumbling, he stood up and turned around, brushing aside the offered assistance, and scanned the skies in case a third something should appear and knock him down a third time.

“Well…I don’t know. I’ve never met him. I only know he’s a dwarf named Gimonul, and when I lit the Belegost candle, I thought of him, so he should be you, but then Lobelia came to mind and…oh. Oh! The star!” Thorin turned around to see him scanning the crater. “Clearly this is where it fell.”

Thorin huffed. “Indeed, it did fall here. Right after being knocked out of the sky, _where he was minding his own business_ , by _THIS_.” He waved the pendant in the other’s direction. “And _THERE_ ,” he thrust a hand brusquely toward the glassy surface on the ground, “is where he woke up a few moments ago with an injured ankle. And _HERE_ ,” Thorin pointed sharply to the ground where he stood, “is where he got bowled over by a complete stranger!” He sat down on the ground none too gently and glared at the intruder. “And my name’s not Gimonul.”

Bilbo’s jaw dropped. “You’re the star… _You’re_ the star?!” Thorin rolled his eyes. “Huh. And here I was expecting a metallic hunk of rock! Lobelia is in for a surprise. Oh! Where are my manners?! Bilbo Baggins, at your service!” Bilbo gave a little bow.

Thorin tilted his head, looking Bilbo up and down with no small amount of suspicion before deeming him unthreatening enough. “Thorin, at yours.”

Bilbo straightened up and pulled something out of a pocket on the side of his pack. It was long, and silvery, flashing as it dangled in the light. “Well met, Thorin. And since you’re at my service -” Bilbo approached Thorin and wrapped the magical chain around his wrist. The bewitched item bound itself securely, but loosely enough to not evoke any pain - “would you mind coming with me for a while?”

“WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!” Thorin roared and jumped to his feet, attempting to pull the chain out of Bilbo’s grasp.

“It’s just for a little while, I promise! Originally, she wanted me to come out here and retrieve the star so she could sell the mithril because it’s a rare and valuable commodity. But you’re not a hunk of metal! But she would never believe me if I told her you were a person, not a chunk of mithril. So please. Will you just come with me to speak with her?”

“How do I know this isn’t some trick? And what will I get in return for going with you?”

“Hm…well, you did say you were stricken out of your home up there,” Bilbo waved at the sky, “by your pendant, right?” Thorin nodded. “Well, Thorin, I promise to return you to your home, with this Belegost candle, if you accompany me back to the Shire.” Bilbo held out his hand.

Thorin played with the end of the magic chain around his wrist. There was no way he would break it on his own. The end seemed to be fused perfectly with the length of chain that stretched to Bilbo’s hands. It appeared that he was stuck. “Master Baggins, if you promise to free me and send me home, I will join you for a time. But if you go back on your word…” he left the threat hanging in the wind.

Bilbo blinked, taken aback, but then he smiled and nodded. “We have a deal!”

 

* * *

 

Gemul stood in the antechamber to the throneroom. Durin’s crown was nestled on a velvet pillow atop a pedestal before him. He pondered for a moment before reaching out and touching the large sapphire embedded in the center. To rule a kingdom…it would be such an honor, but also such a burden. But as a crown prince, he would gladly step up to the challenge.

Armukhul’s ghost stood on the other side of the pedestal, watching him with a sad expression. He’d been the one to find out Gí had been enslaved by Gollum, and he shuddered to think that Gemul may fall to the pride of holding the highest royal station. The gleam Gemul currently held in his eyes was too much like Gollum’s as he crooned over the golden ring he carried. He hoped his desire for the crown would never overrule his responsibility to the people.

Hearing mumbled conversation from around the corner, Gemul retracted his hand quickly. His brothers, Zelu and Hadudul, stepped out from the corner. “Ah, my two favorite siblings! It’s so good to see you before we depart on our journey!”

Hadudul rolled his eyes and smirked. “Your favorites? We’re your only _remaining_ brothers.”

“Ah, but that doesn’t make you any less my favorites, now does it?”

Armukhul stopped tracing the patterns on the back of the crown. “Hey now, I thought I was always your favorite. Remember when we replaced the sugar with salt before the servants brought it out with dessert at the state gala? And the time we slathered five pigs with lard and released them upon the kitchen staff? We were inseparable in our youth.”

Geshul floated down from where he’d been tracing the patterns on the columns with ectoplasm and placed an arm around his brother’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Armukh. You two were a bunch of rascally hellions, if Adad’s stories were to be believed. Soon enough, he’ll probably be with us. And then the two of you can be the best poltergeists around.”

“Wait…soon enough?

“Yeah, just wait for it. The shady one has a plot.”

As the two turned to survey the situation, Gimbur, the head of the council, emerged from the throne room carrying a golden platter with four silver goblets. Each of the three living brothers took one, and as the councilman set the platter down next to the crown, he picked up the fourth. He then raised his goblet to toast the princes.

“May your travel be swift, and may Mahal guide your steps on your quests to recover the Arkenstone.”

As they raised the goblets to drink, Nulu popped in through the floor. “Did I miss it?”

“No, you’re just in time.” Geshul inclined his head towards the four living dwarves. Old Gimbur just gave a nice toast. Short and to the point.”

Nulu nodded. “You know, you’d think Zelu and Gemul would be more careful here. They’re entirely too trusting given that I was pushed out of father’s tower just last night.”

No sooner had the words left his lips than Gimbur began to choke and clutch at his chest. Mouth foaming, he collapsed in a heap on the floor with the spilled wine staining his robes and the silver goblet dropping from his limp hand, landing on the floor with a light clang.

Zelu, Gemul, and Hadudul looked up in shock, gaze whipping from brother to brother. Nothing happened for a moment, and Gemul’s shoulders relaxed as he let out a relieved sigh. He turned to smile at Zelu, who had begun to chuckle nervously. But before he could so much as place a hand on his shoulder, Gemul too spluttered and fell to the ground, convulsing before his eyes turned glassy. Zelu’s mouth dropped open and he looked toward Hadudul, whose visage twisted into a pained expression before he also collapsed backward onto the floor.

Gemul’s ghost materialized above his body. “What just happened? Did I pass out?”

Armukhul stepped up to him. “No, you passed away. Are Zelu and Hadudul _really_ your favorites?”

“Ári!” Gemul practically tackled his long-lost comrade. “I thought I’d never seen you again! But…Apparently Hadudul just died too. Why is he not here?”

“The bastard’s faking. Look, he’s smirking. But Zelu’s too shocked to detect the subtle expression.”

Zelu stared at the bodies in shock, then glanced at his goblet. He gulped before setting it down on the platter. Then understanding dawned upon him and he picked up the crown in awe, moving to set it upon his own brow. But then Hadudul began laughing.

“AHAHAHA! You should see your face! You thought you were king?!” He curled up in a brief fit of giggles, then stood up. “Seriously, though, you honestly thought it would be that easy?”

“You killed Gemul and Gimbur!”

Hadudul leaned forward and stared at Zelu conspiratorially. “No, dear brother, I believe you have killed Gimbur by taking the wrong drink.”

Zelu glanced down at Gimbur’s body, his eyes full of guilt and compassion. Gimbur had been a good councilman. He always gave sound advice with great wisdom gained from decades of experience and he had never fallen to corruption. He always held the interests of the kingdom far above his own, and Zelu had been looking forward to appointing him again as the head of his council once he became king.

Hadudul interrupted his chain of thought. “But no matter. My ponies are the fastest and between the two of us, I have the better sense of direction. When _I_ find the Arkenstone first, this will not matter one bit. May the best brother win.” With a flip of his cloak, Hadudul strode from the antechamber and down to the stables.

Zelu glared at his retreating back before following suit. “Yes…I intend to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Khuzdul bits:  
> Gemul - third (Tertius)  
> Armukhul - fourth (Quartus)  
> Zelu - first (Primus)  
> Hadudul - seventh (Septimus)  
> Geshul - sixth (Sextus)  
> Adad - father  
> Nulu - second (secundus)
> 
> Coming soon in chapter 6: everybody starts their respective journeys


	6. On the Road Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone actually starts their respective journeys - let the filler traveling commence!

Bilbo and Thorin set out from the crater basin. They followed the deep gouge in the earth, for the sides were too steep to climb without proper equipment, especially given Thorin’s sprained ankle. “So…Thorin. Do you have any idea where we are?”

“I’m assuming you mean beyond simply in a crater track in the woods.”

Bilbo waved his casually. “Yes, yes, of course. _Anyone_ with a modicum of common sense could see that. I just meant, you know, since you travelled more…normally…while I just sort of…instantly appeared from my home in the Shire…”

“You think falling out of the sky in a roaring inferno bears any semblance to normal travel?”

“Well, when you put it that way…”

“Master Baggins. I was spinning out of control and could see no more of the land during my travel than you.”

“Oh.” An uncomfortable silence descended over the pair as they continued along the trench. ‘Well, Bilbo Baggins, this is a fine mess you’ve gotten yourself into. How are you even supposed to return to Hobbiton? Which way is the Wall from here? Where even _is_ here?’

Bilbo’s thoughts cut off abruptly as he almost dropped his end of the enchanted chain. Thorin had stopped walking when they reached the end of the channel and was now glancingat the topography. “Um, Thorin? We’re not getting anywhere by standing around.”

“I know that, but we need to get our bearings. I’ve gazed at Arda long enough over the years. If we can locate a few major landmarks, I can probably tell you where we are well enough to acquire a heading to your Wall. How well can you climb?”

“Better than most hobbits, I suppose. I’ve always been a little more athletic than the others, and I usually won the climbing contest when I was a lad.”

Thorin nodded. “When we reach the top of this hill, I’ll need you to climb the tallest tree you can find so you can survey the land for me.”

“I can do that. Promise not to run off on me?”

Thorin shot Bilbo a pointed glare and grumbled, “I’m as lost as you are, and with this bad ankle, I cannot perform the task myself.”

Bilbo nodded, and they travelled on in silence once more. ‘Perhaps stars just aren’t very talkative people.’ After a few hours, they scaled the top of the hill and located a tree that suited their purpose. Bilbo needed a boost from Thorin to reach the lowest branch, but after that had no difficulty scaling the tall pine. A few branches up, he stopped and shifted to look back down. “How do I know you won’t depart without me after I tell you what’s out there?”

Thorin glared up at him. “A star never goes back on his word. Are you insinuating that my intentions are dishonorable?”

Bilbo shook his head. “No, but we only just met, after all. It doesn’t hurt to be cautious. But, just in case…” He looped the end of the mithril chain around one of the lower branches. “I’m sorry for this, but you must understand.”

Thorin sighed and then nodded. “Well, I guess my captor has some sense. Were I some random being in this world, I wouldn’t entirely trust me either.”

“Oh please, I’m hardly your captor,” Bilbo scoffed. Thorin raised a quizzical brow and shook his wrist, causing the chain around it to give a musical clink. “Okay, maybe you have a point there, but still.”

“Will you just climb the tree already?”

“Fine, fine. Up I go, mister bossy.” Bilbo took a deep breath of the fresh air before looking around. Then he shouted down to Thorin, “CAN YOU HEAR ME?”

“ _Barely. What do you see?_ ”

“I SEE A LAKE! AND… A CHAIN OF MOUNTAINS TO THE WEST. WE APPEAR TO BE NEAR THE EDGE OF THE FOREST – ABOUT A DAY’S TRAVEL, I’D SAY. AND ROUGHLY 15 LEAGUES TO THE NORTH, THERE IS A TOWER BUILT FROM THE SIDE OF A MOUNTAIN.”

“ _I know our location! You may climb down now!”_

Bilbo slipped a little a few times, and he nearly fell when he removed the mithril chain from the lower branch, but he made it back to solid ground with naught but some scratches and a fewsticky sap spots. He hoped he didn’t get too much of it in his hair – that stuff was hard to remove, after all! Brushing off a couple pieces of bark and some pine needles, he turned to Thorin. “So, which way do we go?”

Thorin inclined his head in the direction of the mountain chain. Bilbo nodded and began walking. As he passed Thorin, his stomach growled. Thorin watched inquisitively as Bilbo shrugged his pack off his shoulders and started rummaging through it. “Ah ha! Here they are.” Bilbo extracted a pair of biscuits that Belladonna had provided earlier that morning and offered one to Thorin.

Thorin took it hesitantly. “What is this for?”

Bilbo blinked at him. “It’s time for second breakfast. Have you never had a biscuit before?”

Thorin shook his head. “We have nothing like this at home.”

“Well, go ahead and try it. It won’t hurt you.”

Thorin shrugged and devoured it in one bite. Bilbo shook his head in disbelief. Belladonna’s baking was considered some of the best in Hobbiton. He had never seen anybody just scarf down any of her goods without some semblance of a smile afterwards. Except perhaps Lobelia, but she probably just disliked that his mother got all that attention. Bilbo opened his mouth to speak, but shut it quickly when he saw that his comrade seemed lost in thought. Perhaps his uncommunicative companion would open up later. If not… this would be a very boring voyage back to Hobbiton, indeed.

 

* * *

 

 

Zelu and Hadudul each prepared for their journeys separately. The two had never worked well together before, and this time was no different – especially since whoever found the Arkenstone would become king. Naturally, they much preferred to search independently, and with their own distinct styles.

Zelu, being the oldest and believing himself to be the wisest, had watched closely as the Arkenstone soared up and then watched as a star fell down. Logically, the stone would be either with the star or somewhere close to it. So, he packed up his stagecoach with a week’s worth of provisions and set out alone. Why hire help when they could also be working for Hadudul? No, the only dwarf Zelu could trust was himself.

Unbeknownst to Zelu, he did not depart alone. His deceased brethren rode along, comfortably situated inside the coach, catching a nap before things would get exciting. Not that they needed a nap, Nulu told them. They were dead, after all; sleep was no longer a necessity for them, but they welcomed any guise of normalcy.

Hadudul, on the other hand, preferred a more arcane approach to locating the Arkenstone. Relying on his intimidating reputation to instill loyalty in his operatives, he hired a posse of guards along with Erebor’s finest runemaster, who would locate the stone using his magics. Treason was out of the question for them, if they valued their lives. Besides, Zelu was too honorable to resort to sabotage – that was Hadudul’s realm of expertise.

The brothers rode forth from Erebor’s gates. Zelu drove his coach south toward the Greenwood Forest. Hadudul and his underlings rode in the opposite direction toward the frozen seas to the north.

 

* * *

 

 

The gates of Dol Guldur creaked open in the early morning, surrounded by an unnatural fog. A throng of warg riders streamed out, led by a great pale orc upon a colossal white warg. After crossing the bridge over the crevasse which surrounded the fortress, they wheeled around and veered to the east.

Azog sneered as they reached level ground and loped toward the forest. It had been long since the last three stars fell, and only two had landed in Arda. The orcs of Dol Guldur had managed to capture only one of them. Last night, the goblin Grinnah had burst through the archway of Azog’s hall and delivered news that the goblin king had witnessed a star falling again, this time into the Greenwood Forest. If they were fast, word wouldn’t spread and they could reach it first to obtain its heart for themselves.

Two more stars fell shortly into the beginning of their expedition, leaving twin trails of smoke through the sky in their wake. The band of warg riders halted atop a ridge as the stars whizzed overhead and headed toward the same location as the first, wargs snuffling viciously at the air to trace the stardust left by the binaries.   Azog smirked and spurred his warg to hasten, and the rest of the troop followed suit as they tore along the hills before Greenwood. This was a most fortunate turn of events – his master would be pleased if they returned with three stars in tow.

 

* * *

 

 

As Fíli diligently studied Thorin’s and Bilbo’s tracks through the forest, Kíli practically danced around him. “Isn’t this great, Fí? This wind is so different from the cosmic wind we’re used to.” He paused to let the wind flurry through his hair, basking in a patch of mottled sunlight as it filtered down through the needles. He inhaled deeply as he raised his arms, beaming so strongly he literally shone. His excitement was so intense that his shine was clearly visible in the mid-morning light, surrounding him in a sparkling corona.

“Forests are so cool!” I’ve never seen anything as unique this close up before! There’s nothing like this back home in our constellation. I mean, I’ve always wondered at all those vast dark green patches on the earth below, but I never dreamed I’d be _in_ one! Look at all these different shapes! These rounded sortof prickly cone things…ooh! And these domey things on stalks…the slender needles – ow! Okay, those _are_ as sharp as they look. And what about this wonderfully rich smell? It’s…it’s…”

“Pungent?”

“Not quite…yes, but more zesty than biting. Not like that one sulfurous comet that blows by every now and then. And check out the roughness of this bark, and-“

“Hey, Kí? This is harder than it looks. These tracks are thinning out now that the ground is absolutely carpeted in these _obnoxious needles_.” Fíli kicked at a pile of them to emphasize his frustration. “They’re not as clear here as they were in the dust of the crater. If we want to catch up to Uncle, I really need to concentrate.”

“Oh…okay.” Kíli bounded over and leaned over his brother’s shoulder to scrutinize the ground with a look of utter concentration. “Anything I can help with?”

“Hmm…well, the trail is pretty confusing around this tree. The other fellow’s footprints disappear, and it looks like Uncle may have been pacing around this area. Help me find their footpath again.”

After a few moments of scouting, Fíli found a section of a dropped biscuit. “Hey, Kíli! What about this? That doesn’t look quite natural for this area.”

“Hm…yeah, that’s definitely a new thing. And look over there!” Kíli pointed to a scuffed area where the needles had been displaced enough to leave a bootprint. “That looks like it belongs to Uncle. I think we’ve picked up their trail again!”  
  
Fíli nodded. “I do believe you’re right!” He yawned as he stood back up. “Hey, it’s pretty late in the day. Perhaps we should rest for a bit. A short nap would do us both good.”

“Mm, agreed. Do you remember? The last time we stayed up this late, we tried to prank Grandfather by replacing the dust pearticles in the rings around his study with ice.”

“Oh yeah! That would have been a good one, too! But you just had to doze off and get us caught in the act with your thunderous snoring.”

“Hey! I distinctly remember _you_ were the one to fall asleep and wake up covered in the muddy slurry as the ice melted. There was no way Amad would believe otherwise with you all covered in the damning evidence!”

Fíli rolled his eyes. “Details, details. The point is, it was a grand scheme thwarted because one of us, maybe even both, was too tired to successfully pull it off. This isn’t a game, Kí. Arda is dangerous. We can’t risk losing Thorin because of a lapse in judgement.’

“I suppose you’re right.” Kíli gazed about without his earlier frivolity. “Anyways, you’re obviously more tired than I. I’ll take the first watch while you sleep.”

“Thanks, Kí.”

“Anytime, Fí.”

Kíli settled down close to his brother, ready to leap up and defend him if anything unexpected encountered them. But his vigilant watch only lasted so long before he told himself he could rest his eyes for just a moment. Before long, that moment became hours as he too drifted off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Khuzdul bits:  
> Zelu - first (Primus)  
> Hadudul - seventh (Septimus)  
> Nulu - second (Secundus)
> 
> Hey all! I know it's been a little while - life is in a transitionary moving/starting new jobs for both myself and my wonderful beta waywardworldhopper. If you feel like pestering me for news on progress, feel free to shoot be a message on my tumblr (draconic-doc). Or if you have questions about my headcanon for this, I will be happy to answer, unless they entail spoilers, in which case I will respond with a "You'll see when we get there!"
> 
> Coming soon in Chapter 7: Azog runs across Gollum, Bilbo leaves Thorin to get some REAL food for them from a nearby village while Thorin takes a nap, and a traitor is dealt with


	7. Of conflict and treachery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warning: graphic violence

The band of warg riders had just reached the edge of the Greenwood forest when the white warg leading them suddenly stopped, growling as her head whipped to the right. A lesser rider would have gone careening over her shoulder at the abrupt halt – but Azog was no lesser rider. He merely straightened higher in the saddle, swaying with the immense beast’s momentum and thrusting a closed fist high into the air. The rest of the wargs skidded to a halt and began pacing restlessly, panting and snapping at one another’s heels.

Azog leaned down to follow the white warg’s gaze, squinting to see through the scrubby underbrush that dotted the border between Wilderland and the Greenwood forest in dense clusters.   His closest lieutenant, Bolg, approached, his warg holding its head low to defer to the colossal white warg. <What is it?>

Azog glimpsed a section of a brightly colored wagon. Then he smirked and turned to the lieutenant. <We have company – a single wagon. Order the boys to water their mounts with grog. I won’t stop for any exhausted stragglers on my quest. I will deal with this intruder.>

<Yes, oh mighty one.> Bolg cracked his whip over his warg’s snout. It loped over to the other riders to deliver his commander’s message.

Not wasting any time ensuring his orders were carried out – if they weren’t he could always let the wargs feast on the disobedient maggot and promote a new officer to take over the vacant position – Azog leaned over the white warg’s back, encouraging her to prowl as swiftly and silently as possible. As the pair drew nearer to the wagon, Azog heard the following exchange.

“Three stars have fallen, _Gollum! Gollum!_ ”

“Yes, they have, precious, and we will be the ones to find them.”

“Quite right you are, precious. We will find them, and capture them –“

“-with our magical rope!”

“… I wasn’t finished.”

“Yes. Sorry, precious. Do continue.”

Azog blinked in shock. The scrawny fellow appeared to be talking to himself.

“We will capture them with the rops, and we will make them for us. _Gollum!_ And once the starses feel safe…”

“They will begin to shine, precious!”

“And once they shine, we cuts out their hearts –“

“And eat them!” The creature on the front of the cart began to cackle maniacally.

Azog had heard enough. He ordered the white warg to spring. She exploded out of the undergrowth next to the wagon and knocked Gollum off his perch, pinning him to the ground beneath her massive paws. The horses whinnied and reared in fright, eyes wide and rolling in their tossing heads. They tried to bolt, but Azog slid off his mount’s back and kicked some boulders around the front wheels, locking the wagon in place.

“No, precious, don’t hurt us! _Gollum!_ ” Gollum raised his arms frantically to try to protect himself from any blows that may fall upon him.

<Silence, weasel! Those stars are mine!> Azog swaggered up to Gollum, looming over the whimpering wretch. He reached for a belt and untied a black pouch, dangling it before Gollum’s face. <Do you see this?>

Gollum tried to scramble back, but the white warg only pressed down tighter and growled, her viscous saliva dripping down onto his face. His eyes grew as large as saucers. He gulped and nodded quickly. “Y-y-yes.”

Azog made a show of loosening the drawstrings and pouring a small mound of shiny, black powder into his open palm. <My master gave me this.> He hefted the powder slightly, watching the pile shift as the fine grains slipped further down before resettling. <Its victims obey me without fail and they do not notice things I order them to ignore. > He leaned down and brusquely blew the mound at Gollum’s face.

Gollum immediately coughed and flailed. “AIIIIIEEE!! IT _BURNS_ US! Get it off us, get it off!”

Azog sneered and bent down, grabbing Gollum by his neck and lifting him high. <You are to stop seeking the stars. If you come across them, you will neither see them, hear them, smell them, taste them, nor feel them. You are to hinder anybody besides myself from also searching for them. Do I make myself clear?> With that last question, Azog shook Gollum roughly.

Gollum whimpered, and clutched at the hand circling his neck. He nodded frantically. Azog snorted, and flung him back toward the wagon. Gollum slammed against the side and fell in a crumpled heap, groaning and clutching his head as he curled inward. Azog patted the white warg fondly, if fondly could possibly be used to describe something an orc did, and he rode away to rejoin his troop.

As he circled around the warg riders, he shouted out commands. <Warg riders, mount up! We near our quarry.   Now ride fast, and ride hard! We do not rest until the stars are within our grasp!>

 

 

Gimonul watched the whole encounter through a small window in the side of the wagon. When the pale orc receded into the bushes, Gimonul emerged from it, removed the boulders, then helped Gollum crawl into it. He still despised Gollum somewhat, but over the years he had come to pity him moderately. Although, if he was honest with himself, that ability to vanish into thin air never ceased to unsettle his nerves.

“Cruel orc hurt us…” whined Gollum as Gimonul helped him into his trundle bed in the wagon’s interior.

“Shh... I know. I saw. Let’s go t’ Laketown, eh? Yeh always like their fish selection. And we can stop by Bard’s shop, too. We do need t’ restock our wares a bit b’fore we return t’ the market in Bree.”

“Faithful Gí, always helping us, precious. Such a good slave,” mumbled Gollum, petting the dwarf’s cloak as Gimonul passed.

Gimonul nodded, and left to take a seat at the driver’s box. ‘Yes, I’m always ‘elpin’,’ he thought as he rustled the reins to make the horses walk. ‘I’ll take yeh t’ Laketown, far from those stars. They ‘ave enough t’ worry about without bein’ chased down by my director as i’ tis.’ As he turned around toward the great lake, he wished he could do more for them. ‘Without knowin’ where they are, I cannot even send a message about the orcs. If only I ‘ad another Belegost candle, I’d warn them meself. P’rhaps Bard’ll ‘ave one in stock, but given ‘ow rare they are, I really doubt it.’ Gimonul sighed, slumping down a little, and urged the horses to trot faster. He prayed to Mahal the three stars would remain safe.

 

* * *

 

 

Thorin sat down with a huff and reclined against a tree, massaging his ankle. The pain was nearly constant now, and he winced as he removed his boot to inspect the mutinous joint. All the walking he had done that day had caused it to swell noticeably, and it was quite tender from the mere pressure of resting it on the ground beside him.

“Thorin! Are you okay?” Bilbo rushed over and squatted next to him. He started to reach out toward Thorin’s ankle, but withdrew his hand when Thorin flinched and pulled his leg closer. “That looks quite bad. We’ll rest for a moment to let it recover a bit. Then we should continue walking. If you want, I’ll let you lean on me for support. It’ll be uncomfortable, but I’m quite sturdy for a hobbit. We still have a long way to go, after all, and time won’t pause for a minor ailment like a sprained ankle.”

Thorin glared ice daggers at Bilbo, and shifted back to settle more firmly against the trunk. He had no intention of standing up again for several hours, at least. “We stop here for the remainder of the day.”

“What? But we have three or four more hours until sunset! If we’re not back in time, my reputation-“

“Your reputation can take a tumble down the nearest cliff!” Thorin snapped. “I’m tired – I never stay up this late! Stars are nocturnal beings – while everyone in the world below is busy sleeping or pursuing dalliances, we’re wide awake doing things like, oh I don’t know, _SHINNG_! Who do you think is responsible for being constant and bright enough to guide you all when you try to scurry over the face of this godforsaken land in the dark? Hm? That’s right, ME! Now, whether you mind or not, _I_ am going TO SLEEP!” He wrapped his silvery cloak tightly around him and pointedly shut his eyes.

Bilbo’s mouth dropped open in shock. “Wait a moment… _you’re_ the North Star?! Huh! I don’t believe this! That’s… really something, Thorin. So… if I try to find it tonight, there’ll just be a black gap where it should be?”

Thorin grunted in affirmation, but said no more.

“Well, how about that.” But then Bilbo’s wonder was replaced by impatience as he remembered his situation. “But… it’s daytime! You’re on land now, so _whether you mind or not_ , YOU will get used to operating in the daytime. Sleeping during the day is out of the question, and shining has been…suspended until further notice. You cannot doze off yet!”

Thorin grumbled at Bilbo, “Watch me.”

“Thorin!” Bilbo leaped up and leaned his weight on one foot, and crossed his arms. Then he began tapping a foot impatiently. “Would you cease this childish pouting and get up?”

Thorin stayed silent, trying his best to ignore the insufferable hobbit. He hoped if he remained still long enough, Bilbo would give up and leave him in peace for a while.

Bilbo threw up his arms in frustration. “I don’t believe this. Of all the stubborn, inconsiderate… gah! I’ve had it!” He started to storm off, but the magical chain apparently only stretched so far, and soon it grew taut. If Thorin had been watching, he would have noticed Bilbo glare down at the end in his hand as if it were an old friend who had just divulged his biggest secret to the Hobbiton Council.

Thorin heard Bilbo’s grumbling draw nearer, circle around behind his tree, and then cease as Bilbo stood before him. Then there was a quiet metallic _chink!_ as Bilbo wrapped the other end of the mithril chain around his free wrist and the end joined with the middle bit to form a loop. Startled, Thorin jolted upright and discovered he was bound to the tree, his bindings forming a circuit around the trunk.

“Hey!”

“Oh, so you’re awake now.”

That did it. No land dweller sassed at a star. Thorin looked out, but Bilbo was already stomping off into the woods. “Halfling! Get back here at once. Where are you going?!”

“To find some decent supper while you sleep!” Bilbo shouted over his shoulder and waved one hand above his head. “I’ll return in a few hours.” At that point, Thorin could only watch his silhouette, and soon the shadows of the forest swallowed Bilbo entirely as he surged further away from Thorin.

Shifting to get comfortable despite the thin chain manacles, Thorin grunted and curled again at the base of the tree. He was a star, and he would _not_ be treated this way! When Bilbo returned, they would talk. They would have words.

 

* * *

 

 

Waves crashed against the rugged shoreline and beat against the crags below, flinging sprays of foam and mist up toward the tops of the dark, basalt cliffs. A few arctic terns circled lazily overhead with piercing shrieks as they rode the salty breeze blowing in from the east. Some distance to the north, a muffled crackling rumble could be heard as a great chunk of ice clove from the seaward edge of a glacier. It glistened in the sunlight as it plunged into the ocean and sent forth a mountainous gush of water around it.

Hadudul watched the event unfold from his perch atop the precipice with his hands clasped behind his back. From the relaxed slope of his shoulders and the way the fur trim on his long black coat fluttered peacefully, his guards thought him the picture of serenity. But there was no mistaking the steely gaze when he turned around, nor the level, harsh tone when he spoke with clipped words. “Bring me the runemaster.”

Two of the guards nodded and moved quickly back toward the ponies, and within a minute they returned, flanking the elderly dwarf, and thrust him none too gently at the prince’s feet. “My lord!” he cried. “I have done nothing wrong! What action has incurred your cold fury, oh dark prince?”

“Your flattery will get you nowhere. We have reached the very edge of the lands of Arda and still have yet to discover the location of the Arkenstone. I suspect either you are merely an incompetent old fool, claiming to be a great master, or you have been misleading us this entire time. So which is it?” Hadudul casually lifted one hand to inspect his fingernails while he toyed with the hilt of his dagger with the other.

“But… the runes – “

“Ah yes. The runes.” Hadudul tilted his chin slightly so he could gaze down at the prostrate runemaster down his long nose. “I would like to consult them now, if you do not mind.”

The runemaster, Bári, nodded and scrambled to his feet, turning to an icy pedestal that stood beside them and removing his set of runic bones out of his belt bouch. “Certainly sir. What might you inquire?”

The prince turned back toward the ocean. “Am I, Hadudul Blacklock, a prince of Erebor?”

Bári shuffled the engraved phalanges in his palm for a moment, then dumped them onto the pedestal. All of them turned up with the markings pointed skyward. “Yes.”

Hadudul turned and glanced at the result. “Very good. And…is my favorite gemstone onyx?”

The elderly dwarf scooped up the bones and tossed them again onto the podium, with the same result. A wide grin stole across his features. “Yes!”

Hadudul nodded. “Have I ever shown mercy to those who have betrayed me?”

Bári’s grin faltered, and for a third time the runes fell against the ice. But this time, they landed with the blank edges face-up. He looked up hesitantly.

Hadudul was growing impatient. “And what does that mean?”

Bári glanced up slowly. “It means…no.”

Hadudul smiled, but the expression failed to reach his eyes. “Excellent. I have one last question. Throw the runes again, and this time, throw them high.” He stared straight forward as Bári let fly the bones. “Are you working for my brother?”

The bones paused midair for a moment and plunged back down onto the pedestal. _Plink, plinkplink, plink!_ They bounced once, then finally landed on the ice, shuffling before settling with all four marks clearly visible. Hadudul leered, swiftly drew is dagger, and plunged the blade hilt-deep into Bári’s chest. Bári’s expression was shocked and pained as Hadudul growled out “Bashuk kalilurúnhul binganagizd kuŋ aslônizd _,”_ as he withdrew the weapon.

Hadudul scooped up the rune bones as Bári gasped his last breath and sank down to the base of the column of ice.   The guards nervously stood at attention when he turned in their direction after wiping the dripping knife on the stunted tufts of grass that split the permafrost. They watched him chuck the bones shortly and snatch them out of the air, muttering “Do we ride south?” before taking a fleeting look into his palm, and then nod at the bunch. They scrambled to untie the ponies again and soon the small contingent was on their way again, leaving nothing behind but Bári’s dead body and the clods of dirt kicked up by the ponies hooves as they galloped away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is said in Black Speech
> 
> Khuzdul bits:  
> Bashuk kalilurúnhul binganagizd kuŋ aslônizd – The bones of traitors (literally “treacherous ones”) will stay where they fall
> 
> Apologies for the delay, all! As my wonderful beta waywardworldhopper can tell you, multi-day migraines are THE WORST. On the plus side, chapter 8 is about halfway done already!
> 
> Coming soon: bilbo literally runs into Fili and Kili, the orcs' party splits, and Thorin meets the strangest wizard ever


	8. Many Meetings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: implied slavery (in dream sequence)

**Chapter 8 – Many Meetings**

Bilbo had travelled hours before he finally came across a small village. He had purchased a rather nice supper of fried fish and chips and eaten half of it alone. To be honest, he had still been rather annoyed with Thorin at the time. However, Bilbo did feel bad about leaving him for hours, so he saved the rest, wrapped it in a parchment, and stowed it in his pack.

It was now quite dark, and had been for some time. Bilbo could no longer see the traces of the sunset, and he was quite lost. “Oh, bother this forest! I _knew_ I should have marked the trail as I wandered towards that settlement! If only I’d remembered that survival book Gandalf gave me at my coming of age! Or better yet, I wish Gandalf were here now. He may have some magic up his sleeve that could get me un-lost. Well, it’s far too dark to do anything about this mess now. I’ll just have to wait for morning and hope I recognize some landmarks.”

So it was that Bilbo sat down and untied his bedroll, rolling it out across the needles. He hoped none of them would stick into his back while he slept. But no sooner had he settled down than he heard a rich, female voice resonating in his head.

“Bilbo Baggins…trouble is on the way. Help is already coming for my brother – whom you unwisely left at that tree – but my foolhardy sons are alone and vulnerable. They are running nearby, just south of here; you need to intercept them if they are to survive.

This world is not kind to stars. Of the last three who fell, my one perished in his descent, one was captured by orcs who carved out his heart, and the third lived a shell of a life in grief and insanity until he wasted away in the dungeons of Erebor. Please…I beg of you…do not let the same fate befall my sons…

You are my only hope.”

At first, Bilbo thought perhaps he was beginning to go mad. ‘Everyone at home knows Panto Bracegirdle hears voices, and he’s quite a different sort of chap. But then, Arda is obviously a magical land. I mean, here I’ve spent a good half of the day instantly travelling and walking with a star of all things…people. Stars are people. It’ll take a bit for _that_ to become an automatic thought. Sweet Eru, nobody at home will believe me, and then Lobelia will have more to report than my inclinations.’

But then something Tookish overcame him, and Bilbo took heed of the woman’s voice. After all, what harm could searching for two youngsters be? So, Bilbo packed up his bedroll, then looked up to try and gain his bearings.

He had read a few astronomical treatises that his mother had collected over the years. If the constellations in Arda appeared the same as they were across the wall, there should be a blank spot just…there. Now that he thought of it, there _were_ three stars missing from the Northern Cross.

“Right, then.” Bilbo dusted off his hands and brushed down is jacket. “South I go!”

 

 

Kíli jolted awake as his head suddenly hit the ground. “Hey, ow!” he grumbled. Fíli had pushed him sideways off the tree trunk he’d been resting against. “Five more minutes…” Kíli petulantly tucked his knees against his chest, curling up the same way he did at home in the celestial domain.

Fíli shook his head and bent over. He knew _exactly_ what spot on Kíli’s side would make his brother react and fully awaken. As he jabbed a forefinger at the perfect angle, he dodged the flailing limbs as Kíli violently uncurled, springing into a crouch and glaring up at Fíli through his untamed fringe of hair.

Fíli crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. “Kíli, you were supposed to wake me _hours_ ago. Uncle could be _miles_ away by now. We have to run to catch up now.” He started stalking angrily along Thorin’s path, brushing his shoulder roughly against Kíli’s as he shoved past…”

“Hey! Fíli, I’m sorry, okay? Fí! Come back! You’re going the wrong way!”

Fíli stopped, every muscle tense, and stared straight up. He huffed through his nose and pivoted on one toe, then strutted in the other direction. “I knew that.” As he again passed Kíli, he grumbled, barely audible. “Come on, Kí.”

Kíli caught his shoulder and pulled him to a stop. “Hey, I said I was sorry. Look…I know you’re worried – I am too! I want to find Uncle Thorin and protect him just as much as you do. Now, we have to work together, and being all huffy is only going to make us miss the subtle signs in the trail.”

Fíli sighed and nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. Amad would say I overreacted. And here _I’m_ supposed to be the responsible one.”

“Me, responsible? Nah.” Kíli waved a hand to the side, and couldn’t keep a wide grin from splitting his face. “Race you to the next turning point!” As he dashed off, he tripped Fíli to get a head start.

“Oof! Hey! That’s cheating, Kí! Kíli! Hey, wait up!”

“Not a chance!” Kíli called back, in a sing-song voice. “Can’t catch me, Fí! Everyone knows I’m the faster of-“ _WUMPH!!_

“Kíli!” Fíli called out, voice laden with concern, as he watched a blur leap out of nowhere and tackle his brother to the ground. He sprinted towards the two and arrived just as a curly-haired fiend was…helping Kíli up?

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry. Didn’t see you, there! Are you okay?”

Kíli shook his head to ward off his daze, feeling a bit confused. “Yeah…I think so…”

Fíli bounded up, protectively standing in front of Kíli. “WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?! And-“ then he noticed the newcomer’s bare feet. “Hey, wait a minute, you’re the one traveling with Thorin!” He lunged forward, grabbing a fistful of cloth from the fellow’s silk waistcoat and pulling him so close their noses almost touched. “Tell me now. Where is is Uncle, and what have you done to him?”

Bilbo spluttered. “N-n-now wait just one moment! I did nothing to him but leave him at a pine somewhere out there while he slept and I got supper. I’m a Baggins – Bilbo Baggins, to be precise – and I am not some…some…. _vagabond_ to be hobbit-handled! Now if you’ll just act civilly and unhand me, I may explain more!” He ended with a sniff.

Fíli looked taken aback and Kíli placed a hand on his forearm, pushing it gently down, then nodded as Fíli looked at him questioningly. “My apologies, Mr. Baggins. Amad always says I’m too hasty when it comes to matters of family. It’s just…after what happened to Grandfather and Adad, I can’t trust anyone down here. But you seem like a respectful…what did you call yourself? A hobbit?”

Bilbo nodded.

Fíli opened his mouth to continue, but Kíli interrupted him before he could speak again. “I think what my brother is trying to say is, could you lead to Uncle Thorin? Please?”

Bilbo shrugged. “Well, when you’re staring at me with those big, brown eyes, a lot like a fauntling actually, I really hate to say no. But you see, I’m quite lost. The voice said Thorin had help coming, but I needed to find you two. And well, now I have.”

“Wait, what voice?”

“I don’t know…she said something about run in this direction to protect her foolhardy sons.”

Fíli groaned. “Yeah, that sounds like Amad, all right…we are in _so_ much trouble when we get home…”

Then Kíli nodded and grinned, sticking our his hand. “If Amad sent you, you must be okay. Kíli, at your service!”

Bilbo shook it, then turned to Fíli, who pursed his lips for a moment, then shrugged. “Fíli, at your service. Now that we know each other, where are we going?”

“Well…um…” Bilbo tapped a foot while he thought. “There _was_ a road back that way a bit. Perhaps if we go down it for a while, we just might encounter someone who can give us directions to a place to stay for the night.”

“Sounds like as good a plan as any.” Fíli replied. Lead the way, Bilbo.”

Off the trio went, and after about half an hour, they reached the road. No sooner had they arrived than Bilbo felt a slight rumbling, as of horses’ hooves. Not much longer after that, a great carriage appeared just over the edge of the hill to their right. Kíli immediately jumped into its path. “Wait! Stop!” He waved his arms to get the driver’s attention. But it showed no sign of stopping.

Fíli tackled him out of the way in the nick of time, and the carriage rolled to a stop. A blond dwarf jumped down and approached them, brandishing his sword at the two brothers on the ground. “Just so you know, because obviously you do not, it is incredibly foolish to leap in front of a coach moving at full speed like you just did. I swear, if you’re working for my brother-“

Bilbo ran up, panting. “No! Ah, no we’re not. We are new to the area, and we know neither you, nor your brother. Could you perhaps assist us?”

The blonde dwarf harrumphed and stood down, allowing Bilbo to help Fíli and Kíli up. “Where are you heading?”

Bilbo smiled. “Oh, just off to a nearby inn, and-“

“What a coincidence, so am I! And I happen to be headed the same way myself! Also, you should all be bowing, and be grateful that I’m more noble than my brother, for I am Zelu Longbeard, eldest crown prince of Erebor!”

Fíli and Kíli exchanged a glance, but bowed along with Bilbo. When they straightened once more, Fíli spoke out. “Your majesty? Would we be expected to run behind you, or-“

“No, don’t be silly! You are obviously weary and winded and may ride in my empty carriage. There is plenty of room. You may let yourselves in. But be quick, now. You are wasting my precious time.”

Fíli was getting rather annoyed at being interrupted, but he nodded and followed Bilbo and Kíli up to the carriage.

As the door opened, and the trio climbed in, five ghosts stared in shock as first Fíli and Kíli and then Bilbo sat right down upon them. Or in them, as it were. But the spirits couldn’t really blame them – most mortals couldn’t see them, after all.

“Whew! It’s cold in here, Fí!”

“Yes, but it’s rather nice, I suppose. Better than sweltering heat, anyways.”

Bilbo sneezed. “Yes, well. The sooner we get to this inn, the better.” He shuffled into the corner as the carriage lurched forward, then fumbled in his pockets. “Oh, dash it all, I’ve forgotten my handkerchief…”

Nulu moved out of Bilbo’s space, seeing the adverse effect he was having on the poor hobbit, and he sat in the driver’s box next to Zelu. “Hey, brother, are you sure about these guys? They could still be Hadudul’s spies.”

Zelu shrugged as he jostled the reins to urge the horses faster.   “What am I doing?” he mumbled to himself. “These men could be lying spies. But they looked harmless enough…no visible weapons on them, at least. I can easily defend myself if need be. Unless they’re assassins…nah, I’m probably just being paranoid. Unless they’ve been tailing me for days…in which case my ravens would have spotted them long ago. I’m probably just being paranoid.”

Meanwhile, inside the carriage, Gemul couldn’t stop snickering. “Oh, do shut up and go to sleep!” grumbled Geshul.

“But I can’t help it! The dark-haired one tickles! I’ve never been sat in before.” Gemul continued to giggle further, despite his brother’s wishes.

“Oh, leave him be, Gesh,” murmured Armekhul from Fíli’s corner. “Let the newbie have a few new experiences, eh?”

“See, Ari’s on my side,” countered Gemul.

The opportunity was too good to miss for Armekhul. “No, the _brunet’s_ on your side!”

The three brothers laughed so raucously that they were amazed the mortals around them were still oblivious to their presence.

“Shh! I’m sleeping here! Inconsiderate ruffians…” Ghamekhul griped on the bench beside Bilbo.

Nulu poked his head in from outside the front of the carriage. “Hey! What’s going on in here? They can probably here you all the way over in the ruins of Belegost!”

Gemul, Armekhul, and Geshul calmed down, wiping ghostly tears from their eyes. “Oh, that was a good one, Ari,” remarked Gemul once he had recovered enough to speak.

“Yeah, it was, wasn’t it,” chuckled Armekhul. “Come now…who wants to play the ‘let’s see which mortal complains of carriage stiffness first’ game, shall we?”

 

* * *

 

 

There was no sign of life in Thorin’s crater when a pack of orc-laden wargs slid baying down its edges. They paused briefly on the smooth center for a moment, where clearly there had been three impacts. They circled around, snarling while they inhaled the stronger scents of the stars. Then, with a bellow from one of the pale orcs, they set out down the ravine, following the trails.

After a while, Azog signaled a halt, and he sneered as the enormous white warg shifted its head back and forth, clearly unsure which way to go. The orc turned slightly in his saddle. <BOLG!!!> he called out in a guttural voice.

Soon, he was joined by the other pallid orc, who replied in a raspy voice, as if he had gravel stuck deep in his throat. <What’s wrong? Has the trail gone cold?>

<No, you insolent youth! The stars split ways, here. I will take the older path of the single star. You will continue to hunt for the binaries. Their trail is fresher, and they will be easier for an inexperienced pup to track down.>

Bolg growled at the insinuation that he was untested as of yet. Was it not he who found the dwarf scum when small groups attempted to cleanse the Misty Mountains, while the goblins could not find the hidden rogues?

<YOU WILL DO AS I SAY, DISOBEDIENT OFFSPRING!> Azog bellowed, spittle flying. <Take a contingent with you. Now go! _I_ am the leader here! Do not return to Dol Guldur without them, if you value your hide!>

Bolg nodded curtly and barked out orders for five riders to join him. All the wargs moved as one after that, and they split into two streams, screeching and clamoring as the night began to deepen.

 

* * *

 

 

_Thorin was chained to the harness on a mule, with long, thick bands of leather extending back past either side of him. He turned to look back and saw that a well-dressed hobbit with honey-colored curls was driving the creature. Suddenly, the hobbit cracked a whip, letting it snap just short of Thorin’s left ear, and shouting, “Move, slave!,” wide smile never leaving his face._

_On they went, for miles and miles, until they reached an ancient stone wall. They stopped just before passing through a breach in the wall, for Thorin suddenly found his ankle encased in a heavy block of steel. With such a burden, he could no longer lift his foot to walk forward. The hobbit cracked his whip again, making the mule resume its plodding._

_But Thorin could not have followed even if he wanted, and as the mule proceeded and the chain grew taut, he fell face-first into the mud at the base of the wall. As his wrists crossed the boundary, he watched as his hands turned to solid metal, shining under the-_

Somewhere an owl hooted, and Thorin woke suddenly from his fitful sleep with a gasp, torn from his nightmare by the nearby sound. He had slept lightly, despite his exhaustion from the events of the previous day, but he had slept long. Panicked, he looked around, and first noticed that night had fallen. Though he was unable to see the sky through the overhead branches, he guessed it was approaching midnight due to the depth of the surrounding blanket of darkness. The only light in the forest came from silver moonlight shining down in patches around him.

Thorin breathed a sigh of relief when he located the brown owl, which was perched not three feet above his head on a broken branch of the pine. ‘Why _had_ I trusted Bilbo? Okay, maybe it wasn’t trust, exactly, more like “I’m stuck with you, what choice do I have?” but honestly? How can I expect any sort of protection against vicious orcs from a soft, chubby hobbit with curly hair and, all right, I’ll admit it, that button nose is fairly cute, and…wait a second, where did that come from? He doesn’t even have a weapon! Okay, when Bilbo gets back, we’ll discuss matters. To be left with someone who probably can’t even defend himself, let alone his hostage, is…what was that?!’

Some distance away, a bush had rustled, sending Thorin into a more alert state. Slowly, he stood up, testing out his injured leg. The pain had greatly reduced during his rest, though his ankle was now quite stiff.

“Bilbo, is that you?” Thorin called out as loud as he dared, for – from his brief survey of the visible parts of the woods – his companion had yet to return. There was no answer, and the rustling sounded again, but it seemed just a bit closer this time.

“Halfling,” Thorin growled through gritted teeth, “if this is your idea of a joke, I do _not_ find it amusing in the least.” As before, he remained unanswered, and a twig snapped not five yards away. He bent his knees, adopting as defensive a stance as he could with his wrists still bound around the great pine behind him.

A sudden flash of movement caught Thorin’s gaze. The owl had flown down off the branch above him and swooped soundlessly into the undergrowth. Thorin could hear a single, sharp squeak, then the owl returned soon after bearing some small rodent in its talons. Thorin let out a sigh of relief. ‘Small, foraging animals I can deal with,’ he mused, ‘but anything large and dangerous…I’m incredibly vulnerable like this. If Bilbo doesn’t return soon-‘

Something large burst through the bushes then, hurling towards Thorin, and he cried out in shock. Everything happened so fast, and before Thorin could react further, a gloved hand covered his mouth to silence him. When he stopped yelling, the stranger withdrew his hand, and as soon as it was gone, Thorin began speaking. “What do you think you _mmmph-_ “

“ _Shhhh!_ A little bird informed me that there is a pack of orcs prowling Greenwood, and they’re heading this way! Your silence would be most beneficial. Oh dear, what have you gotten yourself into?” The strange fellow moved away and began to scurry around the tree.

Thorin’s eyebrows crinkled in confusion. “And…by little bird, you mean spy, of course.”

“Hm? Oh! No, no, no, nothing like that. I meant what I said!” And with that, the man lifted his cap to reveal a bird’s nest with a small bird, who chirped a greeting that Thorin might have recognized it as such, had he understood the language of the sparrows.

That just made Thorin even more confused. The strange fellow did indeed scurry, and his many-layered woolen garments flapped about him as he moved. ‘He almost looks more like he belongs with the animals than with people!’ Thorin wondered. ‘His cap even has ears and…is that a line of bird droppings? What…nevermind, I probably don’t want to know, but then it’s no wonder, given the nest in his hair. And who on earth travels by rabbit-driven sled?!’

The odd fellow stopped and stood before Thorin once more, hands clasped in front of him. “Well, my stellar friend, it appears you are bound by an enchanted chain.”

Thorin rolled his eyes. “I could have told you that, Mr….”

“You may call me Radagast.” Radagast turned towards his vehicle and began to rummage through the pack on its front.

Thorin watched him in silence, but then an alarming thought surfaced in his mind. ‘Radagast described me as stellar. How could he possibly have known?’

Radagast chuckled lightly. “Hmm, hmm. I’ll tell you in a moment.”

‘Mahal’s bellows, did I say that out loud?’

‘Well – oh, blast it all! Where did I put that thing? AH HA! Here it is! – I’m a wizard, after all. We can sense certain things about people, and you, my fine dwarf, have an otherworldly quality about you.”

Thorin eyed Radagast warily as he drew nearer, suspicion growing. He wasn’t inclined to trust someone who could tell anything about him by magical means. Then what was the point of secrecy? But then…he only said _certain things_ , so…nothing more would slip past his lips.

Radagast snapped an object – it looked like some orange-colored gem – into the gnarled end of his staff. Then, chanting some words Thorin did not know, he pointed it at the mithril chain. Then a bright flash, as of lightning, hit the chain, and Thorin watched in amazement as it disintegrated into nothing. He was free!

An eerie howl echoed through the trees, and Thorin whirled towards the sound. “Was that a wolf?”

“No, that was no wolf. Dear me, no. That was a warg. Oh, this is not good…not good at all. Remember those orcs I was telling you about? Well, apparently they’re here now. I suggest you join me for a time.”

Another howl, much closer this time, and Thorin pushed his suspicions aside. He could either be leery about accepting help from this oddball, or he could be killed. It was as simple as that. So he nodded, and clambered atop the sled behind Radagast’s pack.

At the wizard’s command, the rabbits leaped into action, and Thorin nearly fell off as the sled jerked forward with a sudden burst of speed. As they dodged bushes and tree trunks, Thorin spared a thought for Bilbo. ‘He may have left me behind, but nobody deserves to be ambushed by orcs. I hope Bilbo manages to evade the foul creatures.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Khuzdul bits:  
> Amad – mother  
> Adad – father
> 
> Many of you fabulous readers probably know this already, but for those of you who are new to the Tolkien fandom (first off, welcome), fauntlings are hobbit children. My wonderful beta waywardworldhopper pointed out to me that some of you might not know this, especially since the term has almost no context from which to figure it out here. I know I was a little confused the first few times I read the term. So! Now you know :)
> 
> Coming up in chapter 9: Thorin is reunited with his nephews and Bilbo, the small party has a brief respite from their travels, and the councilors in Erebor convene


	9. Unexpected Guests

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it's been a long time since I updated! Both my beta and I have been incredibly busy the past few weeks. I had a taekwondo tournament to prepare for (got first place in my creative board breaking in my very first competition, as a yellow belt, awww yeah). My family also hosted a few teens from the K-Tigers demo team from Korea. That was such a treat, let me tell you. My wonderful beta waywardworldhopper is one of the costume design managers for a theater company, and they had an opening play last weekend, and of course the fabric stores would send them their supplies for all the costumes four days later than promised - I can only imagine the panic behind the scenes that ensued.
> 
> Anyways, I'm sure you all have heard enough of my excuses and just want to get to the chapter already! But before then, I just want to let you know that I won't abandon this fic, I've just sent the next chapter to waywardworldhopper (so it should be up within a week), and feel free to pester me/ask about upcoming updates by way of tumblr message if you get concerned. Sometimes I do have terrible writer's block and it does help to know that there really are people anxiously awaiting the next installment of Akumin Gimlaz. Thanks for sticking with me so far/welcome if you just found this!
> 
> And, without further ado, end author rant ~

The forest whizzed past unevenly as the boar-sized rabbits bounded through the undergrowth. So great was their speed that unless Thorin fixated on some distant object, all he could see of the world was a series of black, charcoal, umber, and deep green blurs. He had no choice but to trust that Radagast, who was likely accustomed to this sort of travel, could see well enough to navigate the sled bearing them Mahal knew where. Numerous small scratches from errant twigs and branches now adorned his exposed skin – they weren’t following a set path, after all.

Thorin turned around in disgust as they rocketed through yet another giant spider web, scowling as he pulled the sticky strands out of his mouth and away from his face. “Bah! Not another one of these vile nets again,” he grumbled. “The conditions of this ride have been miserable. We had better not be caught by the pursuing orcs and wargs.”

Radagast dodged an incoming branch, and Thorin faced the front again in frustration, crossing his arms petulantly in front of his chest. ‘The wizard’s cap didn’t even get knocked off, yet here _I_ am, getting buffeted by all sorts of greenery. He must have some sort of deflection spell on him.’

The sled hit another bump and his arms shot out to grip both of its sides. When Radagast spoke, Thorin could barely grant him any attention, so great was his focus to remain seated on the careening deathtrap. “I cannot make this trip more comfortable, Mr. Star, but I am saving your life. A little thanks would be most appreciated. Anyways, I can assure you, we will most certainly outrun them.”

“But how can you be sure?” Thorin didn’t even try to keep the incredulity out of his voice. “I’ve seen how fast an orc pack can move when they’re motivated!”

Radagast’s eyes gleamed with pride as he exclaimed, “ _These_ are Rosgobel rabbits! They’re the fastest creatures on land that we know of! Catch us, you say? Ha! I’d like to see them try!”

Thorin settled down just a little at that. While he’d never seen Rosgobel rabbits in action before this night, they certainly seemed fast, and the howls had all but vanished. As the adrenaline of the escape diminished, he was drawn to the steady _thud, thud_ of something bouncing against his chest beneath his tunic.

‘Ah, yes…the pendant,’ he thought as he drew the object on its golden chain out of its hiding place. He’d quite forgotten it since the previous morning when he’d tucked it away for safekeeping. Even in the sputtering moonlight beneath the boughs of the trees, the ruby, which was as big as his fist, glimmered and sparkled. Oh, how it drew the eye. And the golden dragon surrounding it was certainly a product of a master metalworker, complete with shimmering scales decorated its sides. Thorin could swear its carven eyes gleamed with greed for the hoard it might have possessed had it been a live dragon. ‘Whoever owned this was a fool to discard such a valuable item,’ he mused; ‘it’s mine now.’

As he tucked the pendant away, he turned back to Radagast. “Since we seem to have left trouble far behind us, I’d like to know where you’re taking me.”

“Well, if you must know, there is a well-known inn and bath house owned by the Elvenking not much further ahead of us. I’d say after the day you’ve probably had, you deserve a nice rest. You may even be graced by his majesty’s presence! He frequents the establishment often, if only to oversee the collection of barrels of the wine for which the inn is named!” Radagast chuckled. “He is rather fond of the stuff, after all. Lovely strong drink, great for parties!”

Thorin hummed at that. He wasn’t so certain the elves would help him. He’d seen how they dealt with the neighboring dwarves. Most of the time, they downright ignored their supposed allies, even when driven into the Greenwood in desperation. They seemed an isolated bunch, not caring much about the world around them. Thorin would gratefully accept a meal and bed, and perhaps a bath, too, but he would bow to no Elven monarch if he showed himself, especially one who appeared to have little concern for the security of the lands around him. Honestly…letting orcs rampage freely through woods he supposedly governed? Thorin could never respect such an irresponsible ruler.

Within minutes, they reached a small clearing. There was a great cliff ahead, and upon it were carved ornate patterns of vine-encrusted columns, and windows spilled forth golden light that pierced the forest’s gloom. As the rabbits drew to a stop, and the rustling of leaves quieted, Thorin could hear the rushing of water. Looking to his right, he saw the source of the sound – a nearby river issued forth from a cave in the side of the structure.

Radagast broke the silence. “Well sir, I must bid you farewell here. I have other business in the forest to attend to, and I have seen you to safety.”

“Of course.” Thorin nodded to acknowledge the wizard’s remark. “I am sure I can manage from here. Thank you for what you have done for me. If you hadn’t arrived, the orcs certainly would have captured and likely disemboweled me eventually. Though, in the future, if you snatch unwitting passengers aboard that sled of yours, perhaps you could warn them about the terrain.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it! It’s my duty as a wizard to save stars that cross my path.” And with that, he signaled the rabbits, and in seconds he was out of sight.

As Thorin turned towards the inn, he couldn’t help but think, ‘So where were the wizards when my kin fell?’ With that troubling thought, he strode forward, pushing open the door of the Elvenking’s inn and entered its grand lobby.

Needless to say, Thorin was fairly unprepared for the sight that met him. Neither he nor any other star in the sky – from Blue Dwarf to Red Giant – had been inside the earth before. He’d expected it to be dark and gloomy, but then again, the golden windows should have indicated otherwise. Indeed, it was quite the opposite of his previous conception.

Stone columns had been carved to support the vast hall, designed to mimic tree trunks that vaulted out at their apexes to support the stone ceiling as branches would support the treetops. Everywhere large orbs filled with light floated, casting a cheery glow throughout the place, and the ceiling was dotted with thousands of bright blue glow worms, imitating the starry sky outside.

As Thorin limped forward, gaping at the beautiful architecture, he almost failed to notice a dark-haired elf approach him. “Excuse me, master dwarf, but I do not recall seeing you here before. From whence have you come?”

Thorin slid his gaze from the ceiling to fix the elf with a stern glare. “I had heard the hospitality of the elves was more reputable when they would offer it,” he admonished, “one would expect a courteous greeting before a demand for an origin.”

The elf glanced down briefly in shame. “My apologies. You have indeed heard correctly, but you must understand, we don’t normally receive visitors here in the middle of the night.” Then he bowed low, in a graceful sweep, one hand held over his breast. “My name is Galion, and as commander of the night security, it is my task to question newcomers. I would be the first to welcome you to the Dorwinion, the finest inn established in the Greenwood. If you’ll come this way, master…” he trailed off expectantly.

“It’s Thorin.” Thorin offered a gracious nod, though his eyes never left the elf. He had to make sure he wouldn’t get tossed into a dungeon, or somewhere similarly unpleasant.

“Master Thorin, if you’ll come this way, I’ll get you registered as a guest, check in your weapons, and show you to a room.”

“I assure you, I am unarmed.”

“It’s merely protocol, and as head of security-“

“No need to explain, I get it. You’re just doing your duty, as is honorable.”

They walked in silence for a while after that, and after stopping by a large tome in an alcove to document Thorin’s arrival, Galion led him down a side path leading from the lobby. They passed over a narrow, rail-less bridge, which passed over a deep chasm. ‘Judging by the mist rising up from below, the river probably passes beneath us,’ Thorin noted, ‘though the walls must be designed to dampen the sound. Though I’d imagine it would contribute to a serene ambiance.’

Soon after they crossed, they reached an oaken door set into the stone, and Galion halted beside it. “This shall be your room during your stay. I hope you find it to your liking, though the bed is likely too tall for you. We don’t often host dwarrows in these halls.”

Thorin sniffed. “I don’t doubt it. They – _we_ do not often leave our mountains without purpose.”

Galion raised an eyebrow at Thorin’s slip. “And why are you here, may I ask? Are you an outcast seeking sanctuary?”

Thorin glared at him. “Do I look like some random brigand, exiled from his domain?” He stood at full height, chin proudly thrust up, stance firm and unyielding.

Galion took in Thorin’s appearance with an appraising look. His deep blue tunic was all scuffed up, silver cloak tattered around the edges, boots muddied, and no small amount of twigs, leaves, and spider silk littered his hair and beard. And yet…he held himself with a regal bearing and spoke without any trace of barbarous language or tone. Perhaps there was more to this dwarf than he had first assumed.

“Frankly, Thorin, at first I did think so, but you hold yourself as one who commands respect. Perhaps you have a similar status as Prince Legolas, but nevertheless, you have yet to answer my query. I need to know whether I should place guards here to prevent you from harming my other guests in the middle of the night.

Thorin eyed the elf warily. “No, a guard will not be necessary. I have no wish to cause a row with your people here. I was traveling through the woods when I got lost. I sprained my ankle when I fell, and I was drawn here in hope of seeking shelter for a time.” Which was the truth, more or less. But Thorin wasn’t about to tell everything to Galion without reason.

Galion nodded and unlocked the door, beckoning him through. “Very well, master Thorin. I’ll have a bath drawn up for you and some food brought up. The kitchens have been cold for some time, but I’m sure we can at least give you some bread before morning when breakfast is served. And as you’ve been injured, I’ll also summon one of our healers to attend to you before you retire for the night.” He left the room then, leaving Thorin to his thoughts.

No sooner had Thorin settled on the mattress than a group of elves entered bearing a large brass tub, vases of steaming water, assorted bottles of scented oils, and a silver platter with bread and grapes displayed upon it. After setting these down and filling the tub, the elegantly swept out of the room.

Thorin sighed in relief. Now this… _this_ was the treatment a star of his status deserved. He quickly stripped off his garments, but kept the pendant around his neck, and lowered himself into the steaming bath, letting the grime and sweat soak out. Ah, to indulge in such luxuries. ‘Perhaps I will stay here for a few days and rest before figuring out where to go next,’ he though. He massaged some of the more robust oil into his tangled mane, removing debris from the forest as he found it. As he felt the grit loosen its hold, he began to shine a faint, blue light.

Just then, a knock echoed through the chamber. “What is it?” he called out, perhaps a little gruffly, and his shine diminished.

A woman’s voice answered him. “Master Thorin, Galion has informed me that you have an injured leg. In five minutes’ time, I shall return to tend to whatever wound you have acquired in the forest.”

Thorin replied, “Very well. I shall be decent by then.” He sighed and looked around the room. Ah yes, there was a towel and a pale green robe left for him. He stepped out of the brass tub and dried himself off, then donned the garment. Thorin reclined in an armchair near the window. To a second knock on the door, he commanded “Enter.”

In strode an elf with an emerald green tunic, with leather leggings, bodice, and bracers, her long red hair flowing behind her. She was followed by another elf bearing a supply kit complete with various herbs, bandages, and tools. She nodded to her companion, who set them down upon the table in the center of the room and took Thorin’s sullied clothing. After he left, she turned to face Thorin.

“My name is Tauriel. My servant will have your things washed and returned to you, but in the meantime, allow me to mend your ankle.”

Thorin nodded and motioned to his right foot. “I fell not long after arriving at Greenwood and sprained my ankle. Since then, I have been forced to travel upon it, with no small amount of haste and little chance to rest.” Tauriel nodded and gathered some herbs from among the kit, grinding them together to prepare a paste for a poultice.

Thorin regarded her, and noted, “You look more like a warrior than a healer.”

“Hm?”

“Your stance, your attire, and the way you hold the pestle like a knife gives you away.”

Tauriel chuckled lightly. “Can I not be both? You are correct, master dwarf, I am indeed a warrior – captain of the guard, in fact. I’ve recently returned from patrol and slew many spiders this night.”

Thorin nodded. “So instead of resting after such an excursion, you choose to busy yourself more? Impressive, from what I’ve seen of elves.”

Tauriel sighed. “I suppose quite of a few of us are content with hiding away in our havens while the world falls to shadow, but I for one will not let that happen. I will not sit idly by while our forest, which was once light and peaceful, falls prey to the shadow that grows from Dol Guldur.”

Thorin glanced at her with a growing respect as she continued. “To answer your question about ‘busying myself more’…I like to get out of the mindset of killing before I relax for the evening. Usually I meditate, or converse with my companions, like the prince, but tonight, I thought I’d heal a guest.” She began to pack the paste around Thorin’s ankle, and in doing so noticed his skin still glowing faintly. When she finished tying a bandage in place, she shot him a knowing glance. “Sometimes, I even walk in the starlight.”

Thorin inhaled sharply, and his glow quickly vanished, thinking with panic, ‘She knows! But how?’

Tauriel smiled at him, as if she could read his mind. “Relax, blue dwarf – you are safe here.” Then she motioned at his ankle. “Keep that on for a few hours, and when you remove it, your leg should be good as new. Have a pleasant stay here at the Dorwinion.” And with that, she gathered her remaining supplies and glided out of his room.

Thorin stood up and walked over to his bed, then settled down upon it. But it was the middle of the night, and he had no hope of getting to sleep any time soon. ‘I have _got_ to determine what’s making me so obvious. I’ve not had any negative consequences to my true identity, but it’s only a matter of time before some insidious fiend discovers it.’

 

* * *

 

 

Bilbo snorted awake as Zelu tapped him on the shoulder impatiently. The prince had jumped down from his perch in front after having the horses coast to a stop in front of the Dorwinion. “I believe this is where we must part ways,” he said as soon as he saw he had the hobbit’s attention. For a moment, Bilbo merely blinked at him in confusion, mouth slightly open and eyebrows scrunched close together. Zelu rolled his eyes, placing his hands on his hips. “The inn? Remember? Honestly, I don’t know why the blank memory some commoners possess surprises me still.”

“Inn…I don’t…ah!” Bilbo’s eyebrows shot up nearly to his hairline has his sleep-muddled brain caught up with the situation and he recalled their previous conversation. “That inn. Yes. Okay. Fíli, Kíli, wake up. We’re here.”

Fíli sat up, yawning and wiping the sleep from his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, all right, I’m up…” he mumbled. “C’mon, Kí.”

“Mmmmm…five more minutes…”

Zelu shook his head, but a fond smile graced his features. They reminded him of his own little brothers, and he recalled many times of having to yank the blankets off of Gamekhul and literally dragging him out of the bed when Durin summoned them for their lessons or arms training. “Best get moving soon, lads. In five minutes, my carriage will be swarming with elves.”

“Elves!” Kíli shot up, excitement alight in his eyes. “Fí, elves! I’ve always wondered what they’re like up close! Come on!” He grabbed his brother’s hand and wrenched him from his seat before he could so much as straighten his mussed braids.

Bilbo chuckled at their antics and turned to Zelu. “Thank you for aiding us in our travels. You have helped shorten our trip, and-“

“Don’t mention it,” Zelu cut in. “No seriously, don’t. I cannot allow my brother to discover that I’m here. It will be my head for sure.” He paused at Bilbo’s startled look. “It’s a long story, and not one for a stranger’s ears. Ah, and here is the valet! Goodbye!” He sent off the hobbit with a brisk wave of his hand.

Bilbo supposed he should be offended, given this rather abrupt subject change and dismissal, but seeing as Fíli and Kíli were now in his charge – and currently out of his sight – he decided he really should be following them before they found trouble. Really, the two were no different than his young cousin Paladin. After looking around, he concluded they must have gone into the inn.

As soon as he’d opened the doors, Bilbo saw that his supposition was correct, for there were Fíli and Kíli, bombarding an elf with an endless stream of questions. The poor fellow looked to be in quite a flustered state, too. Bilbo was starting to think that stars had no manners whatsoever. Well, he’d just have to fix that. Time to draw on all of his Baggins upbringing.

“Boys! Come here, right now!”

“Bilbo!” Kíli bounced over. “He said there’s another dwarf here who arrived not too long ago, and that I remind him of their current guest!”

Fíli came over, a little more meekly having taken heed of Bilbo’s stern tone. “Do you think…could we have found Uncle?”

Bilbo hummed and fiddled with his cuffs. “I suppose it’s entirely possible.” He turned to the elf and bowed. “My name is Bilbo Baggins, of the Shire. I’m terribly sorry these two ruffians have bothered you. Would I be correct in assuming there is another dwarf here? You see, we’ve lost a member of our party. Might we see if he is our missing companion?”

The elf sighed in relief and inclined his head slowly. Finally, there was a moment of civility in this rather topsy-turvy evening. He was beginning to think they were about to be overrun. “I’ll have to ask Galion, my supervisor, for permission, but I’m certain he will acquiesce to your request. If you would follow me?” He swept an arm out elegantly to the side and turned with barely a whisk of his long robes.

Bilbo followed him with Fíli and Kíli in tow. Honestly, how did the younger of the two stars keep from bouncing off the walls in his excitement? In no time, they were in some sort of board room, arranged for meetings. “Galion, three more dwarves have just arrived.”

Bilbo was about to clear his throat and correct him, but then technically, he _was_ half-dwarf, and apparently nobody in Arda had seen hobbits before, because the people in the tavern he’d visited earlier for supper had been confused as well when he corrected them.

“Have they, Lindir?” Galion didn’t take his eyes off the duty roster he was currently drawing up.

“Yes, sir. And they – “

“Is Thorin here?” Kíli had jumped forward too quickly for Bilbo to restrain him.

“Kíli, you shouldn’t interrupt!” He hissed. “It’s discourteous to our hosts.” Kíli glanced down at his boots as Fíli shook his head.

Galion smiled warmly. “It’s quite all right. Obviously he is barely older than a child. We don’t get to see such youthful energy very often, and young life is refreshing every now and then. But you are correct – indeed, there is one called Thorin here this evening.”

Fíli perked up at that. “Uncle’s here? Can you take us to him?”

“If you are indeed kin, I don’t see why not.”

Galion led them to Thorin’s room and knocked on the door, to be answered by a gruff “Yes? What do you want?”

“Master Thorin, it appears you have some visitors who very much would like to see you.”

Thorin’s door burst open as Fíli and Kíli charged in, simultaneous shouts of “Uncle Thorin!” preceding them.

Bilbo chuckled and turned to Galion. “Thank you for escorting us here. I apologize for any inconvenience we may have caused. If there are any documents that need to be filled out, I would be happy to do so.”

“Of course, Master Baggins. Come this way and we’ll get all that sorted out as soon as possible. It seems you all have a bit of a reunion before you, and it is very late in the evening. You must be exhausted after your travels, and I wouldn’t want to keep you up too long.”

Bilbo followed Galion out to the Grand Lobby, where he entered their names into the large tome and paid for a night’s stay. Then Galion led him back to the room and excused himself, drifting back down the hallway towards the board room.

Bilbo was quite impressed with the elf’s grace. As he entered the chamber, he was met with a fairly fierce argument that unfolded to its peak before his eyes. Apparently, Thorin was not as overjoyed to see his nephews as Bilbo thought he’d be. In fact, he seemed to be in an outright rage.

“What did you think you were doing?! Jumping down here…without thought, without preparation! You-“

“But Uncle, we just wanted to protect you, after what happened to Grandfather and Adad, and-

“HAS IT NEVER OCCURRED TO YOU THAT THE SAME COULD HAPPEN TO YOU!” Thorin roared. “You are young, and foolish, and you are _nowhere_ near as invincible as you _clearly think you are_! You know nothing of the world!”

Fíli and Kíli shut their mouths and looked down at their feet, completely sullen. Bilbo began to step forward. “Thorin, we-“

Thorin whipped around to face Bilbo, braids swinging, poking a finger into Bilbo’s chest. “I will deal with _you_ in a moment.” Then he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fíli…Kíli…I don’t want anything to happen to you. You have no idea of the danger you’ve put yourself in…your mother would go _supernova_ and then _kill me_ if I let _anything_ happen to you two. But you’re here now, and I would rather have you with me, where I can guard you, than out adventuring on your own. But first, we have business with Bilbo to attend to. Come here, you rascals.” And with that, he swept them into a fierce hug. “Don’t you _ever_ scare me like that again.”

Fíli nodded “Yes, Uncle,” as Kíli sniffled a little, hugging back just as hard.

After a few moments, Bilbo cleared his throat. Thorin turned to him and held out a hand. “Um…I, uh…believe thanks are in order.” Thorin held out a hand, and Bilbo blinked at it. Was that _gratitude_ , coming from the one of the grouchiest beings he had ever met? “You have delivered my nephews to me in one piece. My family is in your debt.”

Bilbo hastily grabbed the proffered hand and shook it, still a bit confused by the sudden turns in emotion in the past few minutes. “You’re welcome. Of course, I couldn’t just leave them out there by themselves, and –“

“Yet you did so with me.”

“So…er…about that. The tree thing…”

“Yes, I was just getting to that. You did leave me to die – I am being hunted, it seems, and if Radagast hadn’t arrived, I would be a prisoner of Dol Guldur at this very moment.”

Bilbo blanched. “I…I had no idea. Thorin, I’m so sorry. I’d have returned sooner, but I got lost, you see, and – “ Thorin held up a hand to silence him, and Bilbo closed his mouth so fast his teeth clicked together audibly.

“I owe you a debt for delivering my kin to me. However, in light of your earlier foolishness with leaving me chained to that wretched pine, you haven’t yet earned my trust entirely.” Bilbo nodded sadly at that. “Now, in the morning, you will use the Belegost candle to send Fíli and Kíli home –“

Fíli and Kíli jumped into the conversation. “But Uncle!”

“No, we –“

“– want to help!”

“You need us!”

Thorin sighed and gripped each by a shoulder and pulled them close to bump his forehead against both of theirs simultaneously. “I need you to be safe. Trust me on this, as you once would have. I can’t guarantee you won’t be captured, too.”

“Yes, Uncle,” they said together.

“Good. Then it’s settled. Bilbo-“

At that moment, Bilbo yawned. “Oh, excuse me. I’m terribly sorry. It’s the middle of the night still.”

Thorin nodded. “Of course. I understand, day dweller. By all means, take the bed. We don’t need it. We’re stars, and as you said, it is the middle of the night. Don’t mind us, we’ll settle over here and take a meal while you sleep.”

“Oh! The meal! I nearly forgot!” Bilbo pulled off his pack and pulled out a slightly squashed parcel and tossed it to Thorin. “I’m afraid I may have sat on it a little in the carriage, but I bought it at the village earlier this evening, so it should still be good, and –“

“Bilbo.”

“Hm?”

“You’re rambling.”

“Oh, I suppose I am and –“ He stopped at Thorin’s amused smirk. “I’ll just go to bed now. Um, goodnight, Thorin. Goodnight Fíli and Kíli.”

“Goodnight Bilbo!” the binaries echoed.

Bilbo burrowed under the blankets and made a cocoon out of them, and within moments of getting settled, he fell into a deep sleep. And while he dreamt of his home at Bag End, Fíli and Kíli told Thorin all about their adventures in the Greenwood in excited whispers.

 

* * *

 

 

The Council of Erebor had been summoned to an emergency session, and all the members were in attendance. The chamber buzzed with the voices of a few dozen dwarves trying to be heard over the general clamor. Thurgrís, new head of the council, beat her gavel on the block of tin before him to call for order.

“Silence! Now, we have urgent matters to attend to.” Her voice rang through the chamber while she looked around to check if she had everyone’s attention, then continued. “As you can see, I have replaced Gimbur as head of this council. We are gathered here to determine a course of action for dealing with the problem that is our dark prince. After an investigation, our loyal guards have traced the purchase of the poison that killed him to Hadudul’s personal account.”

A few of the members glanced at each other across the table uncomfortably. If the prince’s spied had infiltrated the council, they feared hi assassins would soon come after them and their families. Then Dhári, head of the tailors’ guild, raised his hand. Thurgris granted him the floor to speak.

Dhári stood up, stroking his beard nervously, then he cleared his throat and spoke with a voice that spoke of a confidence beyond that of his appearance. “My fellow council members: I have more to add to this grim news. My brother, Bári, runemaster of the College of Mages, has failed to send any ravens in the past ten hours. As you all know, he set out with the prince with the promise of sending regular reports every four hours to myself and Prince Zelu. I fear he may have been discovered and silenced.”

Murmurs of agreement ran around the room, and Thurgrís motioned for Dári to sit back down. “Yes, I feared as much would happen. It is clear that our prince is quickly becoming a tyrant, and poisoning our society with his treachery and fear mongering. We cannot allow him to secure the throne, lest the prosperity of Erebor diminish. He will likely rule over the land with the power of terror at his disposal. Brother will turn against brother, sister against sister, in suspicion. We may even find ourselves allied with the goblins…or worse. There’s no telling how far Hadudul Blacklock will go if he reigns.”

“But what are we to do?”

“We’ll all be executed as traitors when he returns!”

Everyone started talking at once then, and the hall descended into cacophonous chaos. Thurgrís pounded on the tin some more. “Will everyone _BE QUIET!_ There, that’s better. Now, we make it so that he is dragged back to Erebor under our control! We have enough evidence now to label him as a murderous outlaw, regardless of his royal station. We shall send out ravens to every town, every village, every hamlet, issuing an order for his arrest.”

“But ma’am,” Dári remarked, “he will easily subdue any who try to capture him. His is a weapons master, and head of the spies _for a reason_. How will anyone be able to disarm him and bring him in? And if there is someone, how will they possess enough courage to assist in this endeavor?”

Thurgrís closed her eyes and hummed somberly. “For the sake of our kingdom, we can only hope there is someone out there who is.”

Within an hour’s time, every raven from the rookery was released to spread word throughout Erebor of the council’s decision. So great were there numbers that their flock blacked out the sun in the capital until they dispersed outward in every direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case any of you were wondering, Paladin is Pippin's father, to whom Bilbo is related on both his mother's side (first cousin, once removed) and his father's side (second cousin, once removed).
> 
> Coming up in chapter 10: a meeting with the king, the orcs' path converges with our stars', and an unlikely escape gets underway!


	10. We Cannot Linger Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warning: sequences of violence

**Chapter 10 – We Cannot Linger Here**

Pale light seeped through the gossamer curtains drawn over the windows of the Dorwinion. Dawn had arrived after a relatively peaceful night in the Greenwood forest, but Thorin nevertheless stood by the window, keeping a focused watch on the mist curling from between the trunks, alert to any small sound that seemed abnormal.   He was wary of his pursuers, for while the orcs had yet to catch up to them, he had no doubt it would only be a matter of time before they were found. He’d seen how persistently they hunted their prey from his vantage point in the sky for centuries. Why would they suddenly change now after hundreds of years of habit?

A soft knock wounded at the door, and Thorin signaled Fíli to answer and see what their hosts wanted this time. As he opened the door, Fíli found himself face to face with whom he assumed was an elven prince. The newcomer’s robes, while practical, were adorned with intricate silver beading in natural patterns along the hems, and a simple mithril circlet nested in his platinum-blond hair.

“Good morning, dwarf. My father, King Thranduil, requests an audience with the one called Thorin. He is not a patient person in the morning, and he will not suffer you to tarry.”

“Now, Legolas, there’s no need to be rude.” Tauriel swept into view from further down the hall. The two conversed in Elvish for a few moments before Legolas turned back to Fíli and said curtly, “I will give you some time to make yourself presentable. Then I will escort you to my father’s audience hall.”

Fíli walked over to Thorin after they left – quietly, so as not to wake Bilbo – and tapped his shoulder lightly. “Uncle?” Thorin grunted and tilted his ear toward Fíli, but his eyes didn’t leave the view of the world outside. “That was the prince. Their king wishes to speak with you. I don’t know why, but it seemed to be a matter of urgency.”

Thorin sighed and patted Fíli on the shoulder. “Very well. I trust you and your brother will keep watch in my place while I’m absent. I am uneasy with waiting here, in any case. I will see if I can arrange some faster means of transportation, and we will depart when I return. We have lingered here too long already. Do not leave this room unless I summon you.” With that, he straightened the mint green robe, which he was still wearing from earlier that night, and moved to the door.

“But Unlce, are we not safe here? We escaped from the orcs that are supposedly chasing us, and surely this place is well guarded.”

Thorin paused and regarded his nephew; oh, how naïve Fíli was if he truly thought them safe. “We are in a strange place, have not seen the efficacy of the guards, and are being hunted by orcs from Dol Guldur. Do not make the common mistake of thinking them brainless, for their leaders are crafty and have wicked hearts with only the desire to conquer the weak or the unwary. No, until we know for certain, we cannot assume we are out of harm’s reach.”

“I understand.”

Thorin nodded and exited the room.

Fíli took his post by the window, and Kíli moved up out of his armchair to join him. “So, what are we looking for, exactly?” he asked as he squinted past the sun’s incoming rays.

Fíli shrugged. “Orcs, mostly, I guess. Who knows what else might be lurking here that’s got Uncle on edge. Although those giant spiders are probably rather nasty – and what could possibly be worse than giant spiders?”

The two boys gave a collective shudder. The cosmic spiders that commonly infested the asteroid grounds were creepy enough with their spiny, claw-tipped, spindly legs that stretched out past bodies that were easily the size of a Blue Dwarf’s hand. They tended to swarm during the season when the great pulsar Gilim’s orbit crossed between theirs and the Red Giants’. After their fabled attempt at bowling, they had forgotten to check for spiders and had woken with a small infestation of the vermin in their rooms the next evening.

A flicker of movement caught Kíli’s eye in the haze at the edge of the forest. “What was that?” Fíli tried to follow his brother’s gaze, but he could only see an eddy in the mist left by something passing by in haste. Soon, more swirls joined the first, thought their sources remained shrouded in fog, shielded from their view.

“I don’t know, Kí, but something doesn’t feel right about this at all.” An eerie howl echoed against the stone of the inn’s sides, and the boys felt the hairs on the backs of their necks rise.

“I better wake up Bilbo.”

“Yeah, that’d be a good idea.”

“No need,” said a voice behind them. “I’m already up.”

Kíli shrieked as Fíli jumped and whirled around. How had the hobbit snuck up on them?! “Bilbo,” Fíli breathed out in relief. “Don’t sneak up on us like that!”

“Oh, really, I was hardly sneaking. I guess Gandalf was right when he said we hobbits are amazingly light on our – what was that?”

The mist had grown even more agitated now; so much so, that it practically boiled. A contingent of orcs clad in stealth gear slowly emerged, creeping quietly toward the stone face and began to scale the wall. One at the edge of the forest leered at the trio in their window and raised his bow.

“Look out!” Kíli shouted, pulling Fíli and Bilbo to cover as a wickedly barbed arrow with black fletching whistled through the opening to stick, quivering, in the door behind the very spot where Bilbo had been standing a split second before.

“Come on!” Fíli called as he yanked open the door and motioned for Bilbo and Kíli to run into the hall.

“Wait! What about Uncle? He ordered us to stay here!” Kíli ducked as another arrow whizzed through and thunked into the side of the hallway.

“Thorin…can deal with it…” huffed Bilbo, hardly able to hear around the stars’ thudding feet and the sound of blood rushing through his ears. “Right now…our main concern…is getting…to safety.”

Deeper and deeper the trio ran, descending into the depths of the Dorwinion. As feral shouts and battle cries and the ringing of clashing steel echoed after them, Bilbo thought, ‘Oh, bother these dwarf stars! I have had nothing but trouble since they fell into my life. I ought to have just stood up to Lobelia and refused to let her bully me into this mess!’

 

* * *

 

 

Thorin was brought into a wide audience chamber, and the guards escorting him knelt first before a dais at the far end before moving aside to their sentry positions flanking it, and Legolas announced their presence. “Father, we have brought the dwarf, Thorin, as requested.” Then he too bowed and stood at the king’s right hand.

The Elvenking lounged in a great throne made of intricately carved mallorn wood and decorated with the largest set of elk antlers Thorin had ever seen in all his years. The king himself was practically dripping with silk garments and illustrious jewels, which pooled over and around him. His tall crown was fully embellished in the full, deep green leaves of midsummer. He inclined his head ever so slightly and ceased his casual swirling of a crystal wine goblet as he scrutinized Thorin down his slender nose with a look of mild disinterest and boredom.

It was clear that Thorin did not impress Thranduil one iota, and after a moment, Thranduil spoke in a voice like silver honey, words luxuriously enunciated and drawn out as if he had all the time in the world to utter them and as if all the world would stop to listen. “I see there are numerous dwarves in the Dorwinion who presume they are celebrities of the hour. Tell me, what business do you solicit in the Greenwood? Are you following a great quest, a mission of honor, as is Zelu of Erebor?” He motioned to the side, where Thorin now noticed the dwarf prince occupying a seat off the side in a position as an esteemed guest.

Armekhul sat on a chandelier above the small crowd, tracing paths between floating dust motes in boredom while Gemul and Ghamekhul chased each other around the lanterns. Something on Thorin’s chest glittered and Armekhul leaned over to squint at it. If he hadn’t been dead, he would likely be concerned for leaning so far, but as a ghost, he no longer feared precarious perches. “Hey, wait a minute…isn’t that the Arkenstone?”

“Shh, quiet! I want to hear!” hissed Nulu, who had always been more interested in courtly politics than his brothers. “Who cares if the bloody stone is here?”

Thorin had spent long enough glaring at Thranduil. “I might ask you why you allow orcs and goblins to run unchecked through your realm. My kin and I had a hard time evading them last night in you forest, and we stopped here to rest in the dark of the night, weakened by our ordeals. Clearly, we are unsafe here, as you are obviously incompetent in maintaining the security of your realm and lack the honor of establishing a haven for any esteemed visitors who would seek shelter or retreat within your domain.” Thorin petulantly crossed his arms and proudly lifted his chin to glare up at the Elvenking.

Thranduil’s striking eyebrows had slowly lifted halfway up his smooth forehead, though he still maintained an air of boredom. He leaned forward and hummed for a moment. “Such malevolence for one summoned peacefully before royalty. And here I assumed dwarves highly revere their nobles and elders.” He turned toward Zelu. “Enlighten me, prince of Erebor, have I presumed incorrectly all these years?”

“No, your elegance,” stated Zelu. “We always uphold respect toward those occupying higher stations than our own. A noble, Galion said? This one is not of my kingdom.”

“Hey, Ari…I think you’re right, the newcomer _does_ have the Arkenstone!” Gemul had drifted down to inspect Thorin’s pendant before floating back up to plop down next to Armekhul.

Thranduil stared Thorin down. “Well, what do you have to say for yourself?”

Thorin refused to break eye contact first, and his glare intensified as if he could burst Thranduil’s bubble of nonchalance with his gaze. “Zelu is no prince of mine, and I’ll not suffer your unspoken accusations.”

Thranduil stepped up and in one swift, fluid motion, approached Thorin to loom over him. “Your words hold some authenticity, yet I gather you conceal much. You may not leave until my suspicion is mollified with your background.” He bent down even closer until he was nose to nose with the Blue Dwarf. “If I have to imprison you and your kin in my dungeons to get you to speak, so be it. Even a hundred years is nothing in the lifetime of an elf. I am patient, I can wait.”

Thorin snorted as Thranduil climbed back to his throne, reclining smoothly onto it and taking a long draught from his wine. A hundred years? That was a mere blink in the life of a star, and Thorin would stubbornly refuse to answer to the likes of this monarch easily during that time. Thranduil waved a ring-laden hand in the air, issuing his final command to both dwarves. “You may leave me now and return to your rooms.”

Thorin sniffed and pivoted on one foot before striding out, and Zelu bowed deeply to the Elvenking before following after him. Meanwhile, unbeknownst to him, his deceased brothers above him shouted down in unison, “HE HAS THE STONE!!”

As they entered the labyrinthine passages of the Dorwinion, Zelu moved next to Thorin. “So, tell me…you are not from Erebor, so from where do you hail? Are you a new dignitary from the Blue Mountains or the Iron Hills?”

Thorin glanced sideways at him briefly before answering, “I am from neither kingdom, nor do I think you will recognize my own.”

“Ah, but I am a bit of a scholar, you see. I think your assumptions is – is that…the Arkenstone?”

“Ah, finally!” Gamekhul raised his arms in exasperation.

Thorin startle a little. “The what?”

“It is! So, you have it…give it to me!” Zelu lunged toward Thorin, attempting to rip the pendant from around his neck.

Thorin raised his arms to block the prince’s advance, but no blow came. Instead, he stared in shock as a black arrow thudded into Zelu’s forehead, embedding itself with enough force to slam him down hard and to slide several feet before coming to a final rest.

Or, not so final, as his ghost remained standing there, blinking blankly in surprise as he heard his body thud behind him. Nulu rested a hand on his shoulder before he whined, “But I almost had it! The stone was nearly within my grasp…” he sighed deeply. “I was almost king…”

Thorin spun around to find the hall behind him seemingly fill with raging orcs. With a shout, he ran down a side corridor, spinning around elven guards as they dashed past him. He entered what appeared to be an arms room, where Tauriel was equipping her bow and quiver. “Please, let me help! If you lend me a sword, I can assist against the attack.”

Tauriel paused for a moment, considering him, and Thorin let a bit of the desperation he was feeling seep into his voice. “We don’t have much time! I need a sword _now_! My kin are endangered. Just let me protect them!”

She nodded and grabbed a curved blade off the rack. “This is Orcrist, Goblin Cleaver. May it serve you better than its previous wielder.”

Thorin nodded gratefully and charged out into the hallway. Sure, he’d never wielded an earth-made weapon, but he’d practiced with astral blades for quite some time, and Orcrist handled similarly. He battled his way back to the room, stabbing through weak places in armor or hacking off legs to topple orcs if he could find no faster means of dealing with them, leaping over flailing arms and weapons as they fell. When he got there, the door leaned open, hanging off a single hinge. “No,” he breathed, chest heaving from the exertion of the fight and eyes welling with emotion, “Fíli! Kíli!”

As he dashed in, he saw the furniture had all been tossed about. Shredded cloth and wood shards littered the floor, and the bed was toppled and smashed. ‘Bilbo, no…not the gentle hobbit, this was not his fight.’ After sweeping briefly through the wreckage, though, he determined that Bilbo and his nephews had escaped the room in time. Despite the obvious ransacking, no bloodshed had occurred here.

Thorin dashed back into the corridor – he had to find them, and quickly. He ran through passage after passage, calling out to his nephews and fighting through the orcs he encountered along the way. Where were the guards? And there was still no sign of his nephews or the hobbit.

After what seemed like hours, Thorin could hear Fíli’s voice coming up from one of the chasms. He located the closest stairway and sprinted down, spiraling deeper and deeper, until the sounds of heavy combat reached his ears.

Thorin cautiously turned a sharp bend in the narrow corridor and instantly ducked as a noxiously drenched blade swung with the intent to decapitate him. He whirled to the side, swiping out with Orcrist to slit the orc’s abdomen and drop the enemy before he could scan the area. Though it was difficult to see past the mass of intruders, he could see flashes of red hair as Tauriel danced between the orcs, whirling about with lethal twin knives. He also spotted Fíli and Kíli fighting back to back. Fíli had somehow managed to acquire two swords and was guarding Kíli with his duel-wielding style while his brother shot down orcs whenever he had a clear line of sight.

‘But where is…ah.’ Thorin located Bilbo, who had backed into a corner and held a dagger shakily before him, eyes blown wide in fear at the scene before him as a vicious orc charged. But he held is ground in the corner and Bilbo was just short enough that the orc ran itself through on the little blade before it could swing its own blade around the stonework to reach the hobbit. Thorin snorted as the falling orc’s weight pulled the dagger out of Bilbo’s grip and he started to move toward the end of the hall where his companions were. ‘It figures – apparently hobbits are more creatures of comfort than tried and true fighters. I’ll bet the soft fellow hasn’t seen battle before now.’

Just before he made it across, however, a large white orc leapt down from a walkway just aboce. Azog landed in front of Thorin and laughed, low and gravelly, his yellowed teeth bared in a grimace. <So, we meet at last, fallen star.>

Thorin gaped at him. “It cannot be…” he gasped, shaking his head in disbelief. “You…you should have been dead for centuries!”

<My Master has many powers.> Azog sneered and leveled his mace at Thorin. <You strongly resemble a star I tormented long ago. He was older than you – weaker, more vulnerable. But you are sharper, sturdier, more willful. All the more fun for me while I break you and deliver your body to my Master!> The great orc lunged toward Thorin with a mighty bellow and sung his mace hard, murderous intent shining in his dark eyes.

Thorin whipped up Orcrist in time to block, using the momentum of the blow to spin around and send Azog running further down the hall. Tauriel remained fighting the lesser orcs without really noticing the duel in her midst, though she did recognize Thorin enough to not catch him in her crossfire. Kíli, however, paused because his quiver had run empty and watched in horror as slowly but surely the pale orc’s fierce and relentless blows whittled down his uncle’s strength. Kíli clutched Fíli’s arm to grab his attention.

Orcrist and the mace locked together; a spur of bone at the mace’s base had trapped the curved blade. Try as he might, Thorin could not free his sword before Azog twisted hard and wrenched it out of his grasp, sending it spinning into the corner. Thorin rolled to dodge the next blow, but the stone floor was slick with black blood, and he lost his footing on the way back up, slipping onto his back.

“Thorin!” shouted Fíli, desperately trying to work through the clogged hall to aid him. But it was no use, there was just not enough time, but…there! Orcrist had landed and skidded nearby. He quickly grabbed the sword and, with a might toss, flung the blade into the fray. “Uncle, catch!”

Thorin saw his nephew move and rolled to catch the sword. He brought it up just in time as Azog brought down his mace to deliver a killing blow. Instead, Azog’s right hand was severed from his arm, and the orc held aloft the stump of his remaining forearm, roaring in agony as much as disbelief as black blood gushed forth before collapsing in a heap and stumbling up to retreat.

Thorin breathed out a swift sigh of relief and turned to push to his companions. The skirmish had grown thinner and he got through without a problem. When he reached Fíli, Kíli, and Bilbo, Tauriel had dispatched the remaining orcs and joined them.

“Come,” she commanded as a horn call echoed through the Dorwinion, “You are not safe here. Our scouts have reported fresh reinforcements coming from the east. I will help you escape with your lives.”

Thorin gaped at her. “And where were your scouts when this all started?” He thrust an arm back toward the body-strewn corridor. “Where were your guards when all this happened? You have failed your duty as captain!”

Tauriel bristled and shouted at him. “My guards were drugged at the changing between the night and day shifts! I might accuse you of sabotaging our security if I didn’t know your status and if I weren’t familiar enough with orc sleep draughts to avoid my own drink at breakfast! By the time I turned to warn my comrades, they were already slumped over their tables. I defended your kin because I felt it was the right thing to do, so how dare you for accusing _me_ of failure! Now, if you have _any_ sort of brain in that thick skull of yours, Blue Dwarf, you will follow me.” She stormed off down the hall.

Thorin motioned for his nephews to begin following her while he collected their hobbit. Bilbo was still in the corner, mouth agape, clearly stunned by all the carnage around him. He had regained his hold on the dagger and still had it raised straight out in front of him, gripping it with both hands as he leaned back into the corner. Thorin kneeled before him, and a bit to the side to avoid the blade, clearly visible as he slowly reached out to him, placing a firm hand on his shoulder and using the other to gently push Bilbo’s hands down, lowering the dagger. As he thought about it, though, Thorin decided it was more of a short sword, given the hobbit’s smaller form. “Bilbo, we must move. We cannot linger here.”

“Thorin,” Bilbo gasped, briefly returning from whatever mental place in which he had fixated. “There’s so much blood…just like the Fell Winter…” His eyes began to glaze as one reliving a nightmare and he began to shiver.

Thorin shook him gently. “Bilbo, stay with me, here, and now.” Thorin tucked away the comment about the Fell Winter to ask about it at a better time Bilbo had calmed down. Perhaps the Halfling was not so innocent of hardship as he had first seemed.

Then Bilbo shook his head and after a deep breath, finally met Thorin’s eyes. “Well, shall we leave this dreadful place?”

Thorin nodded and followed Fíli, Kíli, and Tauriel down more corridors that were beginning to resemble tunnels more than civilized hallways. Bilbo stayed close beside him the entire way, though his previous expression of panicked recollection was now replaced with grim determination. Before long, the tunnels opened out into some kind of storage facility.

“I don’t believe this. You’re supposed to help us escape, but instead we’ll be trapped in the cellars!” whined Kíli.

Tauriel glared at him briefly before motioning to a trap door in the center of the floor. “The river runs just below us. Can you all swim?”

Bilbo blanched – hobbits of the Shire most certainly did _not_ swim. Unless they were Brandybucks, who made their living by the river. But still, accidents happened, and hobbits were extremely prone to drowning, so most decided to stay dry, as was sensible, and avoided large bodies of water deeper than the wading ponds. Unless there was a nice, sturdy bridge beneath their feet, you could not get a hobbit to cross anything larger than a stream and boats were out of the question entirely.

His reaction did not escape Tauriel’s notice, and she nodded. “That’s okay, we can use some of the empty barrels. You’ll just have to hold on tight.”

Bilbo fixed her with a level stare. “Surely you can’t be serious?!” He would gladly take a boat over a barrel at any time. What did she expect them to do, ride the things?

“I am deadly serious, halfling. If you get inside them, the barrels will not only keep you afloat, but also shield you from any enemy archers that may attack you once you are out in the forest.”

Bilbo still wasn’t convinced, and Thorin glared at the barrels with distrust. “Is there no other way?”

“Not unless you want to work your way up to the surface through more skirmishes. This will also be faster, as the current runs strong here and the water will bear you to safety much more swiftly than you can move on foot.”

Bilbo sighed. “If this is the only way, then so be it.” He took a deep breath and nodded. “Now, show me to a barrel.” ‘Before my Tookish courage leaves me,’ he almost added.

Fíli turned to Thorin, concern apparent in his eyes. “Uncle, if we get sealed in, we will surely drown. I doubt many of these are watertight.”

“I assure you, I will leave the lid off lest something happen in the river and so you can steer yourself in the rapids. And you’ll be able to exit swiftly when you land downstream,” Tauriel replied.

Thorin could see the logic in her crazy plan, and nodded. “So be it. We shall try it your way.”

Bilbo had started to climb into his barrel when Kíli started to protest. “Do we really have to?”

Thorin’s patience was starting to wear thin. “Do as she says,” he said as he pointed at the stack of empty barrels that Fíli had added upon the trapdoor.

As they all settled into their barrels, bringing straw to pack around themselves for some padding against jarring thuds from rapids they may encounter, Fíli turned back to Tauriel. “Okay, what now?”

Tauriel paused at the trapdoor’s release mechanism and looked up to grin at him. “Hold your breath.” The last thing the four saw was her wide smile before they plunged into darkness and icy, swirling water.

 

* * *

 

 

Bolg found Azog unconscious and still oozing from his bloodied stump as he, too, retreated from the Dorwinion. He dragged his father up and slung him over the white warg’s back. After securing him to her saddle, he forced some grog down Azog’s throat before ordering her to return to Dol Guldur.

With a snarl, he pivoted toward the inn, as if to set it ablaze with his intense glare. The star scum would pay! And they were lucky their Master required they be alive and unspoiled. Especially after the last one was defiled before his Master could use him to his full extent. They hadn’t fled on the surface, so there was only one possible escape route: the river.

Blog leapt upon his own warg and urged it toward the raging waters with thoughts of vengeance building within his mind. Perhaps the Master would not be disappointed if they were only slightly maimed. After all, he hadn’t said they couldn’t be missing a hand each in retribution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drumroll, everyone, it is time for med school applications phase two. Time to go jump through more hoops and leave copious amounts of my spending money in my wake as more application fees *sighs* posting will likely be slower for a bit while I tackle more essays and adjust to working the night shift. But I do look forward to finishing the next chapter for you all (just gotta figure out the beginning and stitch together bits that I've written so far). Stay tuned for the arrival of the rest of the company!


	11. A Flash of Lightning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warning: accounts of past traumatic experiences and internalized societal homophobia

**Chapter 11 – A flash of lightning**

By some miracle, Bilbo, Fíli, Kíli, and Thorin managed to stay together despite many bends and branches in the river as the rapids tossed their barrels downstream. When the river had calmed enough, the four paddled toward a sandy bank. Bilbo was too tired to care when a frond of slimy river grass tangled around his fingers and only brushed it off when Fíli pointed it out. Thorin was the first out of his barrel, so he helped tug the other three ashore. They were all battered and bedraggled enough that they quickly agreed to rest for a while before moving on.

Kíli had turned a shade of ashen green some time during the escape, and he shivered a little harder than everyone else as he stood up to straighten his cramped legs. “I think I’m going to be sick,” he announced miserably before hobbling into some nearby bushes.

Fíli watched him go for just a moment, then mumbled, “I’m going to help Kí. I’m sure he’ll appreciate someone holding his hair back for him. We’ll be back soon.”

Thorin nodded and turned to Bilbo, who was sitting curled up in a sunny patch on a boulder. “We should gather some firewood. I’m sure we would all appreciate getting warm and dry as soon as possible.”

Bilbo nodded and stood to join him. “Y-y-yes, I q-quite agree,” he said through chattering teeth. “L-l-let’s n-not do that ag-g-gain.”

Thorin hummed in agreement, and the two spent the rest of their little excursion in silence. When they returned to the site by the river, Kíli was hunched on a log while Fíli sat beside him. Upon their return, Fíli glanced up. “Do you need help with the fire?”

Thorin shrugged. “I’ve watched men below often enough while they camped during their grand adventures. I think I can handle starting a simple fire.”

Bilbo shook his head at the haphazard pile of logs. “Well, not like that, you aren’t.” He strategically arranged the firewood and then began to strategically set some brittle twigs and dry leaves around the larger branches. “Starting a fire is harder than it looks. They can be incredibly finicky,” he commented while drying his flint stone in the bristly grass that grew along the riverbank. After a few strikes, a spark caught in the kindling, and after Bilbo fanned the flames to life, the Blue Dwarves gathered around his cheery little fire.

Bilbo sat down beside Thorin. “So, did you watch the world often when you were…” he twirled a finger up at the sky.

“Of course. Aside from the occasional conflict with the Red Giants, incoming comets to dodge, or squabbles among the other stars that my sister usually settles quite easily, it got fairly uneventful. You land dwellers certainly have a lot of drama, especially before you’ve had a few decades of experience. Your foolishness is quite amusing to watch, and sometimes we even made bets on how long different countries would remain at peace.”

Bilbo nodded. “I see. And…did you ever watch the Shire?” Thorin suddenly found great interest in the base of the fire as he poked at it with a long stick, and Bilbo looked down sadly. “So, hobbits just weren’t interesting enough to warrant any attention…”

“Except Bullroarer!” Kíli chimed in, fully recovered from his earlier bout of nausea. “He was _huge_! And when the goblins crossed the wall from Arda, he led the Halflings against them.”

“Oh yeah, I remember that, too! He even knocked off their king’s head in one mighty blow and it landed in a badger hole all the way across the battlefield!” Fíli added, jumping up to reenact said event.

“So the stories are true,” Bilbo mumbled. “And here I thought that was just a tale embellished as it got passed on.”

Fíli and Kíli gaped at him. “You knew him?!” they asked, simultaneously.

Bilbo chuckled. “Oh, please…I’m not that old. He died long before I was born.” Fíli and Kíli deflated a little. “But, Bandobras ‘Bullroarer’ Took _was_ my great-great-grand uncle.”

The boys continued to babble excitedly between themselves while Thorin listened quietly. ‘So that’s where Bilbo’s occasional courage stems from,’ he mused.

Bilbo bumped Thorin with his shoulder to shake him from his thoughts. “So, what’s it like up there?”

Thorin paused a moment. “For one thing, there’s a lot of room – not many closed spaces like that gloom under the trees.”

Bilbo hummed, “Well, I think I prefer closed spaces to open ones. They help make the world seem a little smaller.”

“You are rather little,” Thorin muttered.

“Excuse me?!” Bilbo spluttered with indignation. “I’ll have you know that I’m quite large for a hobbit! Though, now that I think of it, that probably has something to do with my dwarven heritage.”

“Speaking of which, why do you not call yourself a dwarf sometimes? Are you ashamed of your mixed blood?”

“Oh, not at all! In truth, I only just learned about my real father early yesterday morning. I grew up believing I was fully hobbit, and in mannerism I’m more hobbitish.” He shrugged. “So I suppose I just connect more with my hobbit roots.”

Thorin grunted in acknowledgment, and they sat in companionable silence, watching the flames dance and listening to the branches crackle as they burned. Meanwhile, Fíli and Kíli volunteered to go hunting, since they had all forgotten Bilbo’s pack in their haste to escape from the assault at the Dorwinion.

“So, what _are_ our current assets?” queried Thorin once they had gone.

“Only what we have in our pockets, I’m afraid,” Bilbo sighed. “I have my flint stone, money pouch, and the stub from the Belegost candle. Oh! And the elven blade. But that’s it.” He shrugged.

Thorin hummed. “We must find a town soon to restock, or will certainly starve. At the very least, we require water skins, and-“

A crash in the forest split the air behind them, and they whirled just as Fíli and Kíli bolted out of the undergrowth. “Uncle!” Kíli shouted. “The orcs found us! Some of them must have retreated!”

Thorin growled a curse. “How many are there?”

“I don’t know. A few dozen? We didn’t stop long enough to count, exactly,” answered Fíli. “But there are too many for us to fight in the open in our weakened state. We have to get out of here, fast!”

Bilbo groaned. Would they ever get a break? “If we must run, so be it.”

The snarls of wargs and orc battle cries preceded the coming raid. “Damn! There’s no time!” Thorin looked around frantically. The river wasn’t swift enough here to bear them away as before, but…of course! “Everybody, to me!” he commanded as he ran to the fire. “Bilbo, the candle! Use it!”

The orcs and wargs burst into view, led by Bolg. The wargs snapped their jaws and slavered in anticipation of battle while the orcs swung their swords and clubs overhead during the charge. “Think of home!” Bilbo shouted as he thrust the stub of the Belegost candle into the fire. Bolg howled in rage as the four disappeared in a blinding flash of light.

 

* * *

 

A dozen black ponies cantered through the forest, weaving effortlessly trough the trees and dodging dense undergrowth. They maintained a more-or-less v-shaped formation, headed by Hadudul. When he halted to consult the runic bones, they stopped as a single unit. Thus far, the bones had pointed him in a constant southerly direction, but he scowled as they revealed a sudden change in course. ‘So…someone has found the Arkenstone,’ he pondered as he began to head west.

He set a faster pace, now that this quest had become a chase. If memory served faithfully, they were not far from the Dorwinion, and they could renew their supplies there. However, as they neared, the acrid smell of burning flesh grew ever stronger. He signaled a stop and ordered his head spy, Kháris, to investigate.

Curiously yet cautiously – she hadn’t survived among rogues this long by charging into things blindly, after all – Kháris snuck toward a clearing. ‘Well, that explains the stench,’ she thought as she spied a burning pile of orc corpses. Some elves were still adding more bodies to the pile, and though they paid her no notice, she was certain they were aware of her presence. She spotted a blond elf who appeared to be overseeing the operation.

“It appears that something has happened here…a raid, perhaps?” she called out as she emerged from the shadows beneath the boughs and approached him. “Would I be correct in assuming I currently address Legolas, prince of the woodland realm?”

Legolas glanced down sideways at her without turning from his survey. “You are not mistaken, though I believe we have not been introduced. Indeed, chaos found us early this morning. This orc pack drugged most of us before striking and caused great destruction to the rooms they ransacked in their wake. Luckily, only one life was lost in their assault. As such, I believe this was no mindless attack – these orcs had purpose. They were probably searching for someone or something in particular.”

Kháris stroked the whiskers on her chin thoughtfully. Perhaps the orcs had found the Arkenstone and now carried it back to Dol Guldur. “I see. You said one loss…was it an active guard from the perimeter?”

“No, actually,” Legolas motioned to the side where some more elves were bearing a stretcher toward them. “We discovered the crown prince of Erebor, Zelu Longbeard, slain in one of the corridor’s leading to my father’s audience chamber.”

“I see.” Kháris made an act of nodding sadly. “That is most unfortunate. I am sure my commander, Hadudul Blacklock, would be most grieved when I carry this news to him.”

Legolas snorted – the fierce and bitter rivalry between the two princes was not unknown to him. “I highly doubt it, but as you see, we are preparing to deliver his body to Erebor.”

“ I assure you, that won’t be necessary. As soon as Hadudul hears my message, he will send a few soldiers to retrieve Zelu for a burial at home fit for a dwarrow prince.” She bowed and retreated to deliver her report.

 

Hadudul grinned triumphantly upon hearing of his brother’s death. “Yes! I’m _KING_!!” he shouted, both fists raised in the air. His posse knelt with bowed heads when he turned around to address them.

Zelu’s ghost leaned casually against a tree, smirking. “Not yet, brother,” he gloated.

Hadudul’s smile faltered and he gritted his teeth. “Damn! I still need the stone for my reign to be officially recognized by those fools on the council.”

A wet chuckle sounded in the brush, and Hadudul pounced, pulling an orc out of hiding and slamming him to the ground. “You! Your band took the stone, didn’t they?” Hadudul growled at it. “Where are they carrying it?” He shook the orc when he got no reply. “TELL ME!”

Again the orc chuckled, black blood dribbling out the corner of his mouth in an inky trail down his chin. “Foolish dwarven princeling it too focused on his ambition to figure out there is a greater prize to seek.”

“Stop speaking in riddles, slime,” Hadudul hissed. “To what do you refer? And stop avoiding my question. Answer me! Where have you taken the stone?”

“My master seeks three fallen stars. The oldest one…yes…he may have had it. And when we get them, the world will bow before our might as the horde claims power over all.”

“The stars have it? Where have they gone?” He gripped the orc by the front of its tattered vestment, yanking it closer. But the orc merely gurgled wetly and went limp beneath him, eyes glazing over as they stared up at the treetops.

Hadudl dropped the dead orc with a snarl and got to his feet, waving off assistance from Kháris. After a moment of thinking, he grinned crookedly and chuckled darkly. “So, the stars have the Arkenstone. ‘The Immortal King Blacklock’…that has a rather nice ring to it. Come!” He barked to soldiers. “We continue west to intercept the stars who have stolen the Arkenstone from us! Move out!”

As they galloped toward the lowering sun, Hadudul grinned widely. ‘So that’s how Father did it,’ he mused. ‘That’s how the bastard lived so long. Well, Erebor better be prepared for another deathless king. I cannot lose this race. Not now – not when there is no brother remaining to stop me!’

 

* * *

 

The blinding light from the candle receded as the stump of magic wax was completely used up, only to be replaced by a second flash and the loudest thunderclap Kíli had ever heard. It nearly rivaled the cacophony produced by cosmic collisions that echoed through his home nebula. Looking around, he spotted his three companions. “Hey, I think your trick worked, Bilbo! The orcs are gone!”

Fíli groaned shaking off the disorientation of the sudden travel. “Is everyone okay?” he shouted into the wind.

Thorin squinted through the thick downpour. “We all seem to be accounted for, and nobody looks any more injured than we were on the riverbank.”

“Where in Yavanna’s name are we?” asked Bilbo, trying to keep his hair out of his eyes. But the task proved to be in vain, as the wind kept blowing it right back where it plastered wetly against his forehead.

“In a storm cloud,” remarked Kíli, motioning around with his arms spread wide.

Fíli groaned and ran a hand through his hair. “Thank you for that brilliant bit of insight,” he remarked. “You’re a real genius.”

“Why, thank – hey! Are you being sarcastic?” He shoved Fíli lightly.

“Maybe I am! So what are you going to do about it?” Fíli pushed him right back, a little more roughly. He made to charge after Kíli, but jerked back as Thorin quickly gripped the back of his tunic.

“That’s enough, both of you!”

Bilbo gave a dry laugh. “Well, this is just _grand_ , isn’t it? Here we are, Eru knows how many hundreds of feet _off the ground_ , held aloft by nothing more than _A FEW WISPS OF AIR_!” He stormed up to Thorin. “This is all your fault!” He finished by jabbing a finger in Thorin’s direction.

“HOW IS THIS _MY_ FAULT?!” Thorin roared. “ _You’re_ the one who shouted…what was it? Ah, yes. ‘Think of home!’ You failed to specify you meant YOUR HOME!”

“Well, _excuse me_!” Bilbo snapped back. “I couldn’t think of every detail because I was too busy trying to save our skins from those orcs!”

Thorin loomed over the hobbit, trying to fill Bilbo’s space with his presence. “That’s a weak excuse and you know it. Without that little detail, you thought of your home, while my nephews and I thought of ours and now we’re somewhere in between! Mahal’s beard, Bilbo, can you do _anything_ right?!”

“Apparently not,” Bilbo yelled up at him, stretching just a little taller, “because the biggest mistake of my life was saving your sorry butt from that smoking, Valar-forsaken pit I found you in!”

“Uh, guys?” Fíli cut in, “I’m going to have to break this lover’s quarrel off here before you murder each other, but-“

“_we have company,” Kíli finished for him, pointing over his shoulder.

“Fíli, your uncle and I most certainly are _not_ – what is that?”

A ship hovered in the sky before them, and before any of them could say anything else, a heavy net fell and cinched closed around them. Soon they were swept up and dumped unceremoniously onto the deck, surrounded by dwarves.

“Dori! What’ve yeh caught this time?” shouted one with a full, auburn beard.

“Just a couple o’ lightning thieves, Glóin!” replied a silver-haired dwarf with an intricate nest of braids keeping his hair neatly close to his head.

A younger dwarf with mousy brown hair in a knitted cap and cardigan shuffled forward. “Should I notate this event in the ship’s log?”

“Ori! Stay back from them!” hissed Dori. “They’re clearly brigands.” He firmly planted himself between Ori and the tangled pile that was Fíli, Kíli, Thorin, and Bilbo.

“Brigands?!” shouted Fíli.

“Now wait just one moment!” shouted a flustered Bilbo, extracting himself and brushing his vest down as he stood up. “We’re just lost travelers, and – “

“Travelers?” cut in a fourth dwarf they hadn’t even noticed as he jumped down from the rigging. He had his hair collected in three peaks, which rather resembled a star shape when combined with his parted beard. “Should I fetch the captain?”

Thorin joined Bilbo. “Yes, get the captain. I would like to have words with him,” he growled.

“That’s _my_ captain ye’r threatening!” Glóin started to approach Thorin, but before he could get near, Nori stepped in and pressed a blade to Thorin’s throat.

“As first mate, I’ll not let you harm Captain Bullroarer, so you lot behave while I get him.” With that, Nori swiftly swept aside, then dashed off into the cabin. Moments later, a burly dwarf with a tattooed, bald head and twin axes strapped to his back emerged and pounded toward them. He stopped with his arms crossed and shot a fierce glare at Bilbo and Thorin.

Kíli gulped as Fíli helped him up. “Are you Captain Bullroarer? You’re certainly intimidating enough…”

The large dwarf silently shook his head. “Dwalin, ye great oaf, would ye move out of my way? Go on, move!” Dwalin stepped aside to reveal a more average-sized dwarf with a long mustache that curled at the ends. He had twin braids to match and the funniest hat Bilbo had ever seen.

Nori shook his head. “Sir, how many times do I have to tell you? That hat must go if you with to make a fierce first impression.”

“The hat stays,” replied Captain Bullroarer, waving him aside. “Now then!” He circled the captive stars and hobbit. “What’s yer story? Lost trav’lers indeed…how’d ye even get up here? Didja lose the ground?”

He paused for the crew to laugh before continuing. “No, I reckon ye’re here for the same reason we are! Tryin’ to steal our lightning…tch. Dwalin!” Dwalin stepped forth. “Toss ‘em in the brig!”

Dwalin nodded and scooped up Fíli and Kíli both, slinging them over each shoulder as if they were sacks of flour. Dori pushed Thorin roughly in front of him as he followed Dwalin to the brig. Another dwarf with an axe in his head growled something guttural to Bilbo before motioning belowdecks, and the hobbit was so shocked by his feral appearance he went along without a complaint.

After the four had been shoved into a cast-iron cell, Dwalin slammed the door and turned to stomp away. Bilbo threw himself at the bars. “Wait! You are making…a _terrible_ mistake!”

Dwalin ignored him until he reached the stairs. Then, he grunted “Welcome aboard the Ered Luin” over his shoulder and climbed them, leaving them along in their prison.

Thorin stood pensively looking out the single large porthole while Fíli and Kíli slumped down against the wall, staring dejectedly at their feet. Bilbo sighed and walked toward an old mannequin laying in the corner, sitting down to poke at bits of straw that were falling out of the fabric. “You know, after all I’ve been through, I never thought I would die at the hands of pirates like these.”

Thorin turned from the window. “Speaking of dying…thank you. For saving our lives back there. And for defending my nephews in the Dorwinion.”

“Defending them?” Bilbo scoffed. “Thorin, I froze up after accidentally slaying a few orcs. If anything, they defended me.”

“Yeah, what happened?” Fíli glanced up from across the cell. “You just sort of suddenly stopped.”

Thorin walked over and sat down beside Bilbo, so close his arm nearly bumped Bilbo’s shoulder. “You seemed to be haunted by a violent past. I know that stare – I’ve seen it countless times in soldiers after battle or in victims of trauma. You were trapped in a memory.”

“Would you tell us about it?” Kíli prompted.

“Kíli, don’t be insensitive,” Thorin scolded.

Bilbo patted Thorin’s knee. “Don’t be so hard on the boy. It’s all right. I suppose I should tell you all anyways, before we get disemboweled or something of the sort.” He took a deep breath while Fíli and Kíli moved closer.

“It all began four winters ago. The cold was extremely harsh that year, and the blizzards forced us all into our smials. We couldn’t even go out to retrieve food from the store houses before risking frostbite, or worse – freezing to death after getting lost in flurries so thick you couldn’t see your hand outstretched, wandering around in circles, desperate for shelter.

“Eventually, the storms died down and we could venture out. When we did so, everything was painted silver and white with snow and ice. Livestock had frozen in their barns…wild animals broke into a few of the stores and vermin contaminated the grain…many hobbits starved to death or froze in their homes when they ran out of firewood. My own family was one that was better off, having had a well-stocked pantry before the storm.

“Mother, Father, and I took turns braving the cold in pairs to get more food for us all. It was during one such trip that the howls began. Mother and I had discovered that the Brandywine had completely iced over, and hobbits were not the only beings going hungry. The wolves entered the Shire – great, scrawny beasts, not too unlike the wargs here. Father ran out to bring us back to the safety of Bag End, but soon we heard snarling all around us.

“Mother urged us to run and began to fend off the wolves with her walking stick if they got too close. But,” Bilbo paused and closed his eyes, drawing in a deep breath, “but then the largest one snapped it in half…and Father…he…he just jumped in front of her as the beast charged. He got tossed aside instead of her…and…then the thing had its jaws locked around his ankle.

“I…” Bilbo swallowed abruptly, voice starting to choke off a little, and the Blue Dwarves waited patiently for him to continue. “I don’t remember much of what happened after that…except Father’s pleas for us to escape…howls of wolves…the screams of hobbits attacked around us…and the blood…so much blood…”

Bilbo curled up a little tighter, and his voice diminished to nearly a whisper. “We never even stood a chance…” he shuddered. “If the rangers hadn’t come…I’m sure they would have broken through our homes, a-and devoured us all.”

Thorin dropped his chin in shame for thinking the halfling had never endured hardship. “Bilbo, I –“ but his words dropped off so he wrapped his arm around Bilbo’s shoulder. “Thank you for telling us.”

“You know, I lost my father, too,” said Kíli from Bilbo’s other side. “I was too young to really remember him, though. Most of my memories are from stories I’ve heard.”

Bilbo over at him, but it was Fíli who continued. “There was a comet – Azanulbizar, we called it – and it knocked Adad, grandfather, and great grandfather out of the sky.”

Bilbo turned to Thorin. “Just like you got knocked out by that pendant, right?”

Thorin nodded and picked up the tale. “Yes, only we have been more fortunate than they. Azog captured my grandfather, Thrór, beheaded him, and ripped out his heart to deliver to whoever held his leash. Durin locked up my father, Thráin, in the dungeons of Erebor. There, he withered until he was driven mad by despair. And Víli, my sister’s husband, fell outside the borders of Arda and was killed immediately upon impact. My own brother, Frerin, managed to dodge the comet, but he disappeared a few days later. I suspect he tried to go down to help Father and Grandfather, but I never saw him below, despite weeks of scanning all of Arda for any sign of activity from him. I assume he perished like Víli had.”

Bilbo inclined his head sadly. “So that’s why you’ve been so grumpy and mistrustful down here.”

“And that’s why you reacted so strongly when we came after you,” Fíli breathed.

Thorin nodded. “Anyways, we know what happened to the last set of fallen stars. But I’ve been wondering, Bilbo. Why did that Lobelia send you out for us instead of coming herself?”

Bilbo cleared his throat. “I, uh…well, she found out about a certain…history….and she’ll reveal it to the Thain and subsequently all of the West Farthing unless I obtained the star she saw fall. For the mithril, you understand. It’s a very rare and valuable metal, and everyone on my side of the wall knows that it originates from stars.”

“So, she blackmailed you?” Fíli leaned forward. “A history, you said? What, did you murder someone?”

Bilbo spluttered. “No! Heavens, no. Why would I – no. I…um…well..it’s a certain matter of prefence, so to speak…so…you see…” He turned beet red as he trailed off.

“Oh!” Understanding dawned upon Kíli. “Why didn’t you just say that in the first place! So you like lads and not lasses. Big deal.”

Bilbo blinked at him. “Wait, what? How can you be so casual about this, as if nothing is wrong?”

“Bilbo, why would we ever be otherwise?”

“You don’t understand,” Bilbo sighed with exasperation. “In the Shire, people like me…we’re…it’s just not something that’s considered normal in polite society! It…it just isn’t done, and certainly not pursued out in the open! I couldn’t…look, Lobelia caught me, and if I don’t bring you back with me, my reputation as a respectable Baggins will be shattered!”

“But I’ve never seen hobbits across the wall. You don’t think your reputation remained undamaged by your disappearance?”

“Well, I think I’ve heard enough,” said a voice at the door as Captain Bullroarer entered the cell. “The Shire?! Ye come from the Shire, ye say? That just won’t do!”

 

Outside the brig, the Ered Luin’s crew stood in shock, ears pressed to the door and wall. Ori winced at the sounds of hand-to-hand fighting. “Balin, you don’t think Bofur would…you know…actually kill them, do you?“ mumbled Ori, worriedly wringing his mitted hands together.

“I dunno, laddie,” remarked the elderly dwarf. “You remember what happened when Bifur took that axe to his head when the goblins swarmed? He went berserk - couldn’t tell friend from foe until he had calmed down. I’d never seen anything like it again since, but from the sounds of things –“ He flinched at the sound of shattering glass. “Who knows what’s triggered it this time.”

Nori frantically motioned up to the top deck. They all scrambled out and piled along the railing, peering over to see Bofur’s hat poking out of the porthole and what looked like the smaller fellow falling, having been thrown out the side. Bofur called after the descending form, “I won’t have any filthy Shirelings aboard my vessel!”

When he pulled back into the brig, the crew frantically jumped to their duty stations and turned just in time to see Bofur storm from the stairwell with Fíli in tow, yanking him forward by his braids.

“What have you done?! Bilbo, no! Kíli! Uncle Thorin! You can’t just leave them down there like that! Unhand me at once, you –“

“Silence!” snapped Captain Bullroarer, turning to the crew. “It’s a shame abou’ the halfling, really. I’m sure he was a fine fellow. But the golden lad…he’s a real beauty, to be sure.” He winked at Nori, who motioned for Dori to join him below decks. “Now, I’m not t’ be disturbed ‘til I come back out, so back to work, the lot of ye!”

As Bofur shoved Fíli into his cabin, Glóin turned to Balin. “Aye, it seems the captain has finally snapped, doesn’t it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger, buahahaha
> 
> All will be explained in chapter 12


	12. Welcome Aboard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, sorry for the delay! Rather unfortunate batch of joint, noncorresponding computer crashes on the part of myself and my beta, but I finally have an update for you all!

“Well, I think I’ve heard enough,” said a voice at the door as Captain Bullroarer entered the cell. “The Shire?! Ye come from the Shire, ye say? That just won’t do!”

Fíli jumped up and planted himself before Bilbo, crossing his arms firmly across his chest. “If you have problems with our peaceful Bilbo Baggins you’ll have to go through me first!”

“I’ll defend him, too!” Kíli shouted as he joined him, glaring fiercely at the dwarf.

Captain Bullroarer held up his hands, fierce scowl and glare replaced by a sudden grin and twinkle of mischief. “Relax, you two! I’ll not actually harm the fellow. I’ve got some new crew members t’ show how serious I can be. Captain Bofur Bullroarer, at yer service!” Bofur swept off his silly hat and bowed briefly, returning it to its rightful home atop his head as he straightened back up. “Play along, will yeh?” he asked with a wink.

Kíli perked up, smelling a prank in the making. “Oh, I get it! You’re just putting on a show. How can we help?”

“Well, if you three dwarrows could pretend t‘ fight – loudly, mind ye – that’d help while I think of something a touch more dramatic.”

Fíli’s brow crinkled briefly in thought before an idea came to him. “What if…we threw Bilbo out the window?”

“ _I beg your pardon?_ ” shouted Bilbo from his spot near the old mannequin, springing to his feet with indignation. “Out the window…are you insane?! The subject of that plan has some issues with that!”

“I agree with the halfling,” Thorin growled. “If you harm him –“

“Uncle, I wasn’t finished,” Fíli cut him off. “That mannequin is about Bilbo’s size, if maybe a little on the small side. If you didn’t know him well, it’d be easy to confuse it with him.”

Thorin nodded. “Yes…that _could_ work, I suppose…” he turned pensively to the doll, scanning it up and down.

“I like it!” exclaimed Bofur. “Now let’s get t’ work. You two,” he pointed at Fíli and Kíli, “have at it.”

Bilbo considered this idea and his Took blood’s rascally side, which he’d suppressed since his tween years, flared up. “I suppose we have to dress it like me to make it more believable? I have some spare clothes in my pa-…we may have a slight problem.”

“Why? What’s wrong?” asked Kíli as he picked up a loose piece of timber from the corner. Then he faced the door and shouted at the top of his lungs. “Oi! Leave our hobbit alone!” The timber in his clutches thunked soundly against the side of the ship as he swung it with all his strength.

“Good, good, just like that,” Bofur encouraged. “Bilbo, what’s the matter?”

“My pack is gone – I left it at the Dorwinion. The only clothes I have are the ones on my back and I am _not_ stripping down to my smallclothes in front of everybody!” he hissed.

“Well…one moment,” Bofur ran to the other side of the cell and bellowed toward the deck. “I’m the captain of this fine vessel, and if I say he’s not welcome aboard, then he isn’t!” Then he spotted Thorin hefting a large sack of flour toward the stairs. “Oi! Where d’yeh think yer going with that?”

Thorin shrugged it down onto the base of the stairs with a thump. “I thought I’d pummel this to make it sound like hand-to-hand combat in case your crew is eavesdropping at the door.”

“Ah, yes! Good plan. Now,” he turned to Bilbo. “I’ve got some things yeh can have when we’re through with this, but right now yeh’ve got t’ dress that thing with what yeh’ve got on. It would have been better anyways, since half the crew’s already seen yeh in that. Quickly now.”

“This is undignified…” muttered Bilbo as he unbuttoned his waistcoat.

“No,” Kíli turned with a huge smile, holding an empty bottle left by a previous prisoner. “This is fun!” The bottled shattered into a hundred sparkling shards against the door. “Come on, Bilbo, you’re pivotal to our scheme!”

“Okay, fine! I’m already undressed, half a moment! And you!” He poked Bofur as he approached to hoist the mannequin to the window sill. “You better hold true to your promise of a change of clothes.”

“Oh, aye, I’ve whole wardrobe yeh c’n choose from.” Bofur signaled for Fíli, Kíli, and Thorin to cease their assaults on the cell and flour sack as he pushed open the window. “I won’t have filthy Shirelings aboard my vessel!” he roared as he tipped the mannequin out and watched it plummet to the ground below.

“Is that it?” asked Thorin, rejoining the group in the cell. “Now we just go up as if nothing else happened?”

“Not quite,” remarked Bofur, dusting off his hands as he walked to the door. “Hey, Goldie, come with me. We’ve got one last bit b’fore the act is finished. Can yeh pretend t’ be a damsel in distress?” Fíli nodded. “Good, good. The rest of yeh, don’ worry. I’ll send Nori and Dori down t’ get yeh.”

Bilbo, Thorin, and Kíli didn’t have to wait long after the two ascended to the deck. Dori and Nori appeared a few moments later. Nori climbed onto Dori’s shoulders, reaching toward a ring on the bottom of the deck above them and pulling down a hidden trapdoor and accompanying ladder. After jumping off, he motioned for Bilbo, Thorin, and Kíli to make their way into the room above. Once they passed through the small opening, they found themselves in Bofur’s cabin, where the captain was laughing with Fíli.

“Oh, that was a good one,” Bofur said between giggles, eyes crinkled with mirth. “Yeh should’ve seen their faces!” Nori shook his head as Bofur fell off his stool clutching his sides.

When Bofur recovered, he sat up and addressed Thorin. “Yer nephew is a natural with those sad, scared eyes. He almost even had _me_ convinced.”

“Yes, he and his brother have used that particular charm to worm their way out of trouble many times,” Thorin commented as Fíli smirked and rolled his eyes.

Then Bofur pointed between Bilbo and Thorin. “Dori, help these two find some suitable clothes, will yeh?”

“That won’t be necessary –“ Thorin began to protest.

“Oh, yes, you look very fine in that mint green Elvish bathrobe that’s seen better days,” snarked Nori.

Thorin glared at him briefly, then sighed. “I suppose you have a point,” then he too disappeared into the deep wardrobe to browse among its contents.

Bilbo, on the other hand, tried his best not to run into the room – so great was his desire to appear respectable. His Tookish streak had thoroughly dwindled, and a proper Baggins – and not just a Baggins, but any respectable member of the Shire – most certainly did _not_ lounge about in his underwear before strangers! Grandmother Laura would have a fit if she saw him now!

The sheer volume of clothing in the captain’s closet was astounding. Bilbo spent a fair amount of time scanning the selection before picking out a splendid gold waistcoat, silver ascot, and navy blue overcoat. But there was just one problem. “These trousers are much too long for me – look at them!” he complained to Bofur and Nori as he emerged.

“Hm…” Bofur circled Bilbo appraisingly. “They look fine t’ me.”

Bilbo crossed his arms and tapped his foot. “But look! They reach my ankles! I feel as if I’ll trod on them as I walk!”

“That’s why ye tuck ‘em into yer boots! Here, these should fit ye.” Bofur tossed some clearly well-used boots toward Bilbo.

“Oh, no. No. I draw the line there.” Bilbo shuddered at the thought of old, dirty leather enclosing his feet and matting the furry hair that graced their tops. And to think he’d willingly lose the connection to the rich earth beneath his toes!

Understanding dawned upon Bofur and he slapped a hand to his forehead. “Of course ye’d be appalled by this – yer a hobbit! Mahal, I can be such a dunderhead at times! Take those pants off an’ give ‘em t’ Dori. He’ll rehem them for yeh. And while we wait for his return, I’ve just _got_ t’ fix yer hair.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Bilbo asked as he passed the trousers to Dori, who settled down into an armchair in the corner and pulled a sewing kit out of one of his pockets.

“Laddie,” Bofur sighed while he began to rummage in a small chest upon his desk, “if yer gonna pass for a dwarf on my ship, ye can’t have yer short curly hair _and_ yer naked feet. Boots or braids, take yer pick. Ah-ha! Here’s that blasted device!” He approached with what looked to be an ordinary comb in one hand the pair of boots in the other.

Needless to say, Bilbo chose braids. He sat in a chair by the window as Bofur draped a large blanket over Bilbo’s front and trimmed his curls short. “How are you going to braid it if you’ve lopped it all off?!”

“You’ll see,” Bofur answered in a sing-song voice as he began to comb through what remained of Bilbo’s hair. Bilbo reached up when his scalp started to prickle warmly only to have his hand swatted away. “Don’ touch it yet,” chided Bofur, “ye’ll ruin the magic.”

“And what black magic is this?” Thorin strode into the main room, buckling a set of vambraces around his forearms. Bilbo’s jaw dropped. Thorin had donned a stunning many-layered outfit. His sky blue tunic peeked out from beneath a silver breastplate with matching pauldrons, covered with a royal blue overcoat and fur-trimmed, midnight blue travelling cloak. He looked…regal, actually, and the many layers somehow hid, yet enhanced his figure.

“Sweet Valar, you look amazing, Thorin,” Bilbo breathed. He clapped a hand to his mouth as Thorin chuckled. ‘Did I say that out loud?!’ he thought as his ears began to redden.

“And you look…not bad with long hair, halfling,” Thorin smirked and casually stepped out of the way as first Kíli, then Fíli, bolted out of the closet. Both of them wore more durable garments than the celestial cloaks they had had on before.

“Long ha- long? My hair is long?” Bilbo’s whipped his head around as if trying to see for himself and yelped as his hair tugged painfully, still in the grips of the comb’s teeth. Bofur snorted while he moved Bilbo back to looking straight ahead and pushed a mirror into Bilbo’s hand. Bilbo gasped at his reflection. Indeed, his hair had grown at least two feet, if not more. “How…how is this possible?”

“I told ye, it’s magic!” proclaimed Bofur. “A gift from Gandalf. Now hold still…I’m just about finished with ye.”

“You know Gandalf?” Bilbo said quizzically.

Bofur shrugged. “ _Everybody_ knows Gandalf,” he replied, as if that explained everything.

After a few short moments, Bilbo had a single, thick, four-stranded braid going down his back.   As he stood up and let the blanket fall to the floor, Fíli nudged his brother in the side. “Look, Kí, Uncle and Bilbo’s colors sort of match.”

“You’re absolutely right, Fí! At this rate, we’ll have to invited Amad down for their wedding.”

Bilbo blushed and spluttered. “Our wedding?! No, I’m not…” he shot an alarmed glance at Thorin, then back to the boys, “we’re not…”

“Awwww…” Kíli pouted. “So you don’t harbor feelings for our ruggedly handsome, very single Uncle?”

Bilbo groaned as his ears became a dark crimson, and he buried his face in his hands.

Thorin shot a dark look at the boys and placed a hand on Bilbo’s shoulder. “Don’t let them get to you, Bilbo. They’re only teasing, which they will _stop this instant_.” And if his hand lingered at its perch a moment longer than was necessary, none but Bilbo noticed. “Our matching is purely coincidental – nothing more.”

Fíli and Kíli shrugged and asked if they could excuse themselves, dashing to the deck when Bofur granted them permission. When they had gone, Bofur turned to his first mate. “Nori, would ye scurry over t’ the galley and ask Bombur to send up some mint tea and scones?”

Nori nodded and mumbled “I don’t scurry…” as he disappeared through a shadowy side door.

“Fine! Skulk about, then!” Bofur shouted after him. Then he pulled up two chairs to the end of the center table and beckoned Thorin and Bilbo to join him. “So,” he said to Bilbo, “tell me about the Shire. How’s it been the past ten years?” He folded his hands before, leaning forward in anticipation with eyes that glittered with excitement.

Bilbo blinked, dumbfounded. “What? You…you’re asking about the Shire?”

“Of course! Homeland of the great Bullroarer Took! Da told me all the stories when I was a wee lad, and he became a sort of childhood hero t’ me. Took on his name as my captain’s title, though if yeh ask Nori, he’d just shake ‘is head and tell yeh it’s from all the bull that comes out of my mouth when I’ve had a few too many ales.”

Bofur shrugged before continuing. “And besides…Bullroarer is a much fiercer soundin’ title than Broadbeam, I can tell you that! Back when Da commanded this vessel, folks didn’t take him seriously half the time, and they only paid him a fraction for the wares fer the other half.”

Bilbo breathed a sigh of relief. “So, you’re not bloodthirsty pirates?”

Bofur guffawed, clutching his sides. “Sweet Mahal, no! We’re a bunch of law-abidin’ citizens of Erebor who transport goods here an’ there. ‘Cept when we take on the occasional smugglin’ job. And of course, every now and then we collect bits o’ lighting fer Master Gandalf.”

“So that’s why you were flying in this storm,” Thorin cut in.

Bofur nodded. “So, now you know about us, but ye still haven’t told me about the Shire. Does the miller’s wife still win the pie contest? Do the spotted pigs still tow carts fer the little ones at the midsummer fair? Is the Party Tree still around?”

“Of course it’s still around! It’s much too important for hobbit society to let anyone harm it, and its roots are strong and deep – no normal wind could fell it. And how do you know about it, anyways? We rarely get dwarves in the Shire, and when we do, everybody knows of it, and I’m fairly certain I’d hear gossip about one with as outlandish a hat as yours.”

“Aye, I suppose it is a bit distinctive, and yer right. I’ve never set foot in the Shire.”

Thorin eyed Bofur suspiciously. “Then how do you seem to know so much about it?”

Bilbo elbowed Thorin’s ribs. “Probably the same way you do! And be polite to our host,” he hissed.

Bofur’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptively in thought. “I captain the only skyship in all of Arda. The Party Tree always has some celebration or other going on and it’s all lit up, making it the brightest spot just outside of the Wall.”

“I knew that…” Thorin grumbled. “But don’t you get bored with their soft, easy lives? The Bullroarer was an exceptional hobbit. Excitement rarely visits the Halflings, and when it does –“

“Don’t you _dare_ bring up the Fell Winter as if it were nothing, Thorin, you insensitive lump!” Bilbo practically screeched. “No excitement, ha!”

Thorin opened his mouth to counter, but Bofur cut in first. “I’m with Bilbo on this one. Hobbits have their own type of courage. Sure, they don’t go on darin’ adventures or epic quests, but inside every hobbit lies the hidden heart of a lion. Have you never heard of how an older lass will defend her younger siblings? Or how ‘bout how fiercely the men haggle for a prime tool at harvest time? Or the women defend their honor against the latest gossip, heads held high as they walked the streets after a rumored scandal? Or seen a lad stand pale but unquivering before a hobbit father as he asks permission to ask for his precious daughter’s hand in marriage? They may be soft folk, yes, but they carry wells of courage. And that’s nothing to scoff at.”

“Mr. Bofur, I couldn’t have said it better myself. I think we’ll get along just fine.” Bilbo reached across the table.

Bofur took his hand and shook it heartily with a smile. “The honor is mine, Bilbo. Glad t’ have yeh aboard. And we’ll teach this lump of yours some manners, yet.”

Thorin most certainly did not pout at being told off like a misbehaving child.

A knock at the door preceded the entrance of a portly, ginger dwarf. “Excuse me, sorry to interrupt, but Nori told me to bring this?”

“Ah, Bombur! Come in, come in! You have most excellent timing – nothing like tea to diffuse a tense situation, right Bilbo? I’d like t’ introduce ye to our new guests. Bilbo, Thorin, this is Bombur, my younger brother and head of our galley. And arguably the best chef in all of Arda!” He clapped Bombur on the shoulder as the rotund dwarf set the platter of scones before Bilbo and Thorin.

Bombur blushed at the praise. “No, no, I just like making food; that’s all. It’s not nearly as good as you make it out to be…”

Thorin bit into one of the dense, buttery treats and his eyes widened at its richness. “These are most excellent! You underestimate your skill, Master Bombur.” He turned to Bilbo and muttered. “These are better than your mother’s, I think.”

Bombur fiddled with his gloves. “You really think so?”

Bilbo nodded as he too bit into a scone, then pouted some of the tea. He sighed with deep contentment as he sipped from the cup, feeling warmth spread through his body. “Oh, that’s lovely.”

Bombur smiled shyly. “I’m glad you like it. Well, I’ll be goin’ back to the kitchen now to prepare dinner.”

Bilbo hopped up with the platter. “It was nice meeting you, Bombur. Would you mind getting these to the boys? I’m sure they’d appreciate it. They’re…well, I don’t actually know where they ran off to.” He turned to shoot a questioning glance toward Thorin.

“My nephews are probably climbing the masts right about now. Or maybe pestering the younger dwarf from earlier. Follow the ruckus. You’ll find them.” Bombur nodded and shuffled out the door. When he had gone, Thorin addressed Bofur. “Captain Bullroarer, now that we know you’re not going to harm us, would you be willing to do us a favor?”

Bofur pulled out a scrap of wood and began to whittle casually. “That depends,” he answered. “What manner of favor are we talking about?”

Bilbo set his teacup down upon a gold-rimmed saucer. “Well, we’re trying to return to the Shire, and we only have five more days to travel home. We’d appreciate it if you could at least take us closer to the Wall.”

Bofur hummed thoughtfully, then glanced up and smiled. “I’d be happy to help! We have t’ drop off some cargo at Laketown first, but if you and the lads are willing t’ help aboard the Ered Luin, I can get yeh as close as Durin’s Mirror. There’s a lake not far from that fated pond large enough t’ land in. Ye’ll be safe enough on the ship, but when yeh set off, ye’ll need t’ take care – the goblins hold the territory there, and we’ll likely draw attention with the landin’. That’s the closest I can get you.”

Bilbo nodded but looked unsure. “Would there be fighting involved?”

Thorin caught the uncertainty in Bilbo’s voice. “Would it be possible to get some weapons training while we travel?”

Bofur nodded. “Dwalin can handle that. And we can probably pick up some gear for yeh in Laketown before then, as well. Ye’ll need it t’ cross the mountains.”

“Thank you, Bofur,” Bilbo remarked. After a while, Bofur showed Bilbo and Thorin to the guest cabins with promises to show them around the Ered Luin after dinner. Bilbo took the bunk below Thorin’s and as he settled down, he said “Well, Thorin, it appears our luck is turning. I do believe the worst is behind us.”

Thorin chuckled but kept his thoughts to himself. ‘Oh, Bilbo…if only you’d seen half much as I have…this venture is far from over.’

 

* * *

 

Bolg arrived at the fortress of Dol Guldur that very evening. The unwelcoming, black iron gates ground their way open to allow him and his small contingent through. He dismounted and barked orders to some goblins to lead the wargs to the kennels. One of them, Grinnah, remained behind, wringing his hands nervously before the tall orc.

<What is it, goblin slime?> Bolg grunted to the small form before him.

<Your Malevolence…the Master wishes to hear your report. He commands you answer his summons at once.>

Bolg sneered and pushed Grinnah aside roughly as he entered Dol Guldur. He strutted through the halls to a ruined central chamber. A great pit opened below a stone walkway. Dead, gnarled olive trees and pointed crags circled its rim like twisted teeth. Molten lava bubbled deep in its maw, casting a smokey orange glow dancing around the crumbling stone walls and fingers of shadows lacing upwards.

As Bolg settled near the end of the path, the shadows around him deepened and swirled, coalescing into a single cloud that hovered and writhed before him, sucking the light emanating from the earth below. A menacing voice echoed airily against the degraded masonry. <You have dared return without a single Blue Dwarf in tow. Explain!>

Bolg shifted defiantly. <We found the stars and had them within our clutches. The she-elf helped them escape down the river. We hunted them down. But their puny comrade had a Belegost candle. We returned here for further instruction.>

The swirling increased and the cloud approached Bolg threateningly, stopped inches from his nose. <Excuses mean nothing to me! The crebain have reported seeing them aboard a sky ship on course for Laketown. Intercept them and bring them to me. I do not allow second chances often. Go, now! And do not return without a star, preferably all three!> The shadows surged forward, engulfing Bolg and then scattering into the corners and crannies.

Bolg snarled, but thumped a fist to his chest and bowed stiffly before striding out of the ruined chamber. <As my Master commands.>

 


	13. Laketown, ahoy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Akumin gimlaz is back in motion! I told you all I wouldn't forget about this fic. This chapter has been waiting for you all for quite long enough. Not sure when it will actually be beta'd, but for now it has been proofread. If there are significant changes later, I'll edit the chapter later. I've got about a chapter and a half finished in draft-style, so it won't be nearly as long before the next update, so worry not!

Bilbo awoke abruptly with a yelp as the Ered Luin suddenly rolled to the right. Luckily, his tangled bedroll had gotten snagged around the post and formed a wall of sorts, which kept him from being pitched out from his bunk. Judging by the thud next to him and the string of half-muttered curses, Thorin was not so lucky. “What in Mahal’s name is going on?” he growled as he clambered to his feet and rubbed his head, stumbling as the ship righted itself.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Bilbo replied groggily. He stood up and briefly stretched his arms over his head as he yawned.

“Have you seen my nephews this morning?”

“Not yet,” Bilbo said, glancing at the other set of bunks in the cabin. Which, alarmingly, lay empty and nearly put together. “Do Fíli and Kíli usually make their beds at home? I haven’t exactly known you three very long, but it seems that Kíli, at least, would leave a bit of a mess behind him.”

Thorin frowned and shook his head, clearly agitated by their absence. “I doubt they were even here last night. Your assumption is correct. And we certainly would have heard them come in. They’re not exactly the best at sneaking.

Bilbo shrugged. “I’m sure they’re still on board, and they can’t have gotten far. They probably just caught up exploring and didn’t think to come back for sleep. As you’ve pointed out numerous times so far, stars are nocturnal beings. Perhaps they made a friend and stayed up all night chatting as youths are wont to do. That Ori fellow looked to be around their age.”

Thorin snorted. “I highly doubt that Ori’s 500 years old.”

Bilbo’s jaw dropped. “Five hundred. Five _hundred_?! But by looks they’re hardly more than tweens!”

Thorin leveled a flat glance in Bilbo’s direction. “Have I not said we’ve watched the planet below for centuries? Do our positions not stay fairly constant for millennia?”

“Well…according to astronomical treatises, yes, but…I’m sorry. I just hadn’t applied that to your life spans yet.”

“Besides…by dwarf years, Fíli and Kíli would still be older than you think they are. They’d have around 80 or so years under their belts.”

“That’s…well how old does that make you?”

“Nearly one thousand years, I should think.”

Bilbo gaped at him for a moment, then cleared his throat when he realized Thorin was apparently waiting for his response. He broke eye contact and shuffled his feet, inspecting his vest for wrinkles and smoothing them out. “I think it is far too early in the morning for this conversation.” His task finished, Bilbo caught Thorin’s gaze once more. “We should seek out Captain Bullroarer and inquire upon the situation with the boys’ whereabouts.”

Thorin chuckled as he followed Bilbo into the corridor. The ship continued to swerve as they continued on towards the stairs, and more than once they had to brace themselves against the walls of the narrow corridor or each other. After a particularly sharp roll, he could swear he heard Bilbo mutter something about “Hamfast’s home brew,” or something along those lines.

The morning sunlight was brilliant as they emerged from below, and Bilbo held up a hand to shade his eyes as he squinted at the flurry of activity around him. Dori and Nori appeared to be working swiftly to secure the sails. Dwalin was busily unlocking and preparing a mechanism that Thorin could only assume was devised to lower something from the sides of the ship. Bifur chased down loose objects that rolled about the deck and held them in place while Glóin fastened them down. Bilbo caught hold of said dwarf’s arm as he dashed past again. “Excuse me, but what is everyone doing?”

Bifur pointed up to the wheel. “Bofur kelechî buzru Ered Luin. Aknùr nahuba bên zârmimênu ni shuthû.” Bifur illustrated his command by gripping the railing upon seeing Bilbo’s confused expression.

Bofur noticed them as the ship rolled to the port side before Bilbo and Thorin could follow Bifur’s advice and they stumbled closer to the middle of the deck. “Ah, lads! Ye’r awake! We caught a fair wind in the night and we’re about t’ arrive in Laketown!”

“Have you seen Fíli and Kíli this morning?” asked Thorin, shouting into the wind to be heard. He turned as Bofur pointed up to the bow, where he spotted the pair leaning far over the side, entranced with the ripples in the sparkling water below that trailed beneath the descending vessel. “Fíli! Kíli! Your mother would have my head if she could see this! Get back here this instant!”

“Uncle!” Kíli whirled around with a huge grin. “You should come join us. You can see everything! The whole town just started to wake up, and there are quite a few boats returning to the town now. Just look at those waves behind us! And the water is so close…I can almost touch it! And look.” He pointed toward the looming town. “Esgaroth itself is _floating_!!”

Bilbo groaned. The barrels had nearly given him a heart attack. Since it seemed he didn’t have much chance of not disembarking into the town, he hoped the walkways were sturdy and didn’t move in any currents the lake may possess. “Boys, do as your uncle says. You could fall overboard, and-“

“Bilbo, you worry too much. Doesn’t he, Kí?” Fíli casually turned around to join in the conversation.

“Oh, yes. It’s perfectly safe!” Kíli jumped up and landed with a strong thump. “The wood beneath and around us is nice and sturdy.” Then, much to his older companions’ alarm, he did it again.

“Besides…what could possibly happen?” Fíli added with his arms spread wide.

Neither Thorin nor Bilbo could answer before Ori shouted down from the crow’s nest, “BRACE FOR IMPACT!” The Ered Luin struck the lake more or less bow first, sending up a glistening wall of water that collapsed across the entire front section of the ship, drenching the binaries where they stood.

Kíli clutched his belly and laughed at Fíli’s indignant scowl while his brother extracted a crab from his sopping hair and flung it distastefully back into the lake. Thorin pinched the bridge of his nose while Bilbo sighed and commented, “Well, at least they won’t need baths later.”

Dwalin took the wheel and glared at Bofur’s back as the captain stepped aside and approached Bilbo and Thorin. “I swear…one of these days you’ll kill us all with your amateur flying skills…” he muttered.

Bofur pretended he hadn’t heard and addressed Thorin. “It turns out it’s a good thing we picked yeh up yesterday. We could use the help taking the lightning ashore and over to Bard’s shop. And it’d also be good if yeh could take yer own gear back aboard when we turn. And Bilo, you should accompany Bombur to the grocer’s market. I’m sure he’d not mind a second person of culinary inclinations to help compare goods.”

“Can we be of assistance as well?” asked Fíli as the boys joined the bunch.

“Of course you can!” Bofur replied with a grin.

“Really?!” Kíli began to shine faintly. “We get to set foot in a floating town, Fí!”

“Kíli, contain yourself,” Thorin hissed, and Fíli subtly nudged Kíli and pointed out his brother’s glowing skin. Kíli quickly dimmed and shrugged, then scampered away to join Nori and Oin by the stern anchor.

“Fíli, Thorin, would yeh join Bifur, Glóin, and Dori below to help move the containers onto the mid deck? We’ll leave as soon as Dwalin gets us t’ the docks.” Bofur’s eyes narrowed slightly in thought as the three turned to go to their respective tasks. ‘Hm…most interesting…could those stories be true as well? Balin would know better than I…’

When the three had gone to the galley and cargo hold, Bofur called Balin over. “What can I do for my captain?” asked the elderly dwarf with a jolly smile.

“It appears our guests are not normal dwarrows.”

“Oh ho! So you’ve noticed that as well.”

“It’d be hard not to, even in the daylight. Balin…d’yeh think…have we picked up some fallen stars?”

Balin nodded sadly. “Aye, and if the youngest isn’t more careful, someone else will discover them as well. They seem like fine people…I’d hate to see them come to harm. Immortality’s a tempting status, after all.”

“That it is. But I could ne’r live with myself if I stole it from their lives. I can’t imagine any good soul could exist for eternity with that kind o’ guilt. Plus, I bet it’d get rather lonely after a while. Should we tell the rest of the crew?”

“I dunno, laddie…” Balin sighed. “It’s not our secret to divulge, and if everyone starts to treat them differently, they’ll be even more suspicious-looking to outsiders.”

“But if they’re being hunted already, we may all be at risk, and as captain, I’m obligated t’ guard my crew. Perhaps it’s fer the best if they all know.”

Balin nodded sagely with a hum and then patted Bofur’s shoulder. “Think it over. We’re safe in the air, and I doubt gossip about them, if there is any yet, has spread all the way here. Given the rather strange nature of their…arrival…yesterday, I’d say any pursuants are far behind…But you can never be too certain. If you do decide to tell the crew, wait until we’re on out way to the next port. In the meantime-“

“We’re ready to go, captain!” shouted Nori as he began to lower the gangplank for the crew to disembark.

“All right. All hands to yer duties! Let’s see what Laketown holds in store fer us today!”

 

* * *

 

“Oh, come now. 350 is a perfectly reasonable value for fresh lightning of this caliber.”

“I’ll offer 225 for it.”

Glóin stood before a tall, grim-faced man whose dark hair secured back in a ponytail. Ori, Balin, and Fíli stood behind him while Thorin, Kíli and the rest of Bofur’s crew browsed the wares that stocked the shelves. “Always so stingy, aren’t you, Bard? How does 300 sound?”

“This is fascinating,” whispered Fíli to Ori. “I’ve never actually seen haggling this closely before.”

Ori shot him a strange look, then shrugged. “Just keep watching.”

Bard buried his hands in the pockets of his oilskin longcoat. “300 is a high price, you know I have three young mouths to feed at home. Times are harder than ever with all the new taxes the Master is forcing upon Laketown’s residents.”

Glóin nodded. “Aye, I’ve got a family of my own back at home, so I understand that, but 300 really is cheap for this high-quality lightning. Perhaps you’d like a demonstration of its action? Fíli, be a helpful lad and let loose that sample you’re carryin’.”

Fíli shrugged the tube’s strap off his shoulder into his hand and aimed the end toward a blank spot on the wall. When he pulled the release mechanism, a spark leaped out and hit the wall with a sharp _crack!_

Bard watched the bolt and hummed with approval at its effect. “You weren’t exaggerating…This is far finer than the last batch you brought in. How about 250?”

“Aye, we upgraded our collection equipment using the proceeds from your last purchase. And besides…300’s not so bad. Especially considering you don’t have to pay storage taxes to Alfred since the Master is wary of angering Saruman. Isn’t Orthanc your only buyer licensed to handle lightning?”

“You make a good point. Very well, master dwarf. I’ll give you 275 for the chest of lightning. That’s my final offer – take it or leave it.”

“Excellent! So, if my calculations factoring the area’s sales tax are correct…” Glóin pulled out a ledger and calculation device, stroking his voluminous russet beard, “…the total comes to 300. ‘Twas a pleasure doing business with you.” He smiled broadly and held out his hand as Ori recorded the transaction in the ship’s log.

Bard sighed and shook it. “Yes, that’s correct. Give me a moment to pull together you payment. Bain!” he called down the stairs to the back cellar. “Would you come up and help the other dwarves check out their purchases while I buy this lightning?”

“Of course, father!” The boy of about 15 dashed into views.

“Is that wee Bain! Last time we met, you were just barely my own height. And now look at you…you’ve grown at least a head! My Gímli will never manage to catch up to you now!”

Bain fidgeted shyly under the attention. “You’re quite right, master Glóin.”

“And polite, too. You’ve done right with this one, Bard. You must be pretty proud of the lad.”

“Indeed, I am.” Bard watched him dash off to the counter. “Soon, he’ll be ready to take over as shopkeeper during the usual business hours, and I will be able to take up fishing again to rake in some extra income.”

“Best of wishes to you and your kin.” Glóin reached up to thump the man on his shoulder as he went to join Oin near the medical supplies.

  
Balin took his place to watch as Bard filled a bag with pieces of silver from the shop’s safe. “Have you heard any news from Erebor since we last visited?”

“I have, actually.” Bard straightened after locking the safe. “A raven stopped by with a message and an official pamphlet not too long ago. It seems the council has outlawed the youngest of the princes and they’re offering a reward to the party who will bring him into custody.”

Dwalin passed by with an armload of whetstones. “So, those ninnies on the council finally grew some stones and took action, did they?”

Balin rolled his eyes. “Not all measures of government are ineffective, brother. But I’d agree with you. It’s about time they did something about Blacklock.”

“Has Erebor’s political climate really gotten that bad? I thought you all were loyal to King Durin.”

“To Durin, yes, but to the dark prince?” Bard jumped as Nori answered from behind him. “Yes, it has. There’s a reason I left the royal spies and joined my brothers in Captain Bullroarer’s crew. His power with surveillance lacks scruples and his orders strayed beyond the role of protecting the royal family and more toward spreading fear and paranoia for political influence.”

“Well, your stealth certainly hasn’t diminished since then.” Bard eyed Nori suspiciously. “You haven’t snatched anything off the shelves, have you?”

Nori sent Bard a dark glare. “My thieving days are long gone. I can honestly say I’m a dwarf of honor now, and I take great offense at your accusation.”

“Once a spy, always a spy, I say,” muttered Dwalin.

Nori turned sharply in the direction of the front counter, where Dwalin was passing his own payment to Bain. “Oy! What was that?”

Dwalin scowled. “Nothing…”

Nori shrugged and melted back into the shadows near the far side of the store to finish his shopping, and Bard ran a hand over his hair. “It really is unsettling when he does that.”

“Don’t I know it,” Balin agreed. “But you get used to it after a while. He really is a good fellow at heart and he makes an excellent first mate. He even volunteers to lead reconnaissance missions, scouting ahead for us before we land in new ports, and his sources for information are always the very best. I’m sure his contacts here in Laketown will confirm your news.”

Dwalin snorted. “No doubt they will. If Hadudul shows his face, we’ll drag his royal arse back to Erebor. You can count on that!”

Thorin had completed his purchase of a few travel packs filled with supplies for his nephews, Bilbo, and himself and joined the trio. “Is he really so bad a prince as to lose the respect of his subjects?”

“His heart’s as black as his hair,” Balin answered Thorin. “Nothing’s been proven, but he’s definitely at the heart of many, if not most, of the disappearances and assassinations of more than a handful of delegates in the past few years. I wager he’d even make a deal with Dol Guldur to get ahead of his brothers and snatch the throne if he saw it necessary.”

“I’d be surprised if he hasn’t already,” added Dwalin.

“Does he have enough enemies in Erebor to depose him if he becomes King?” asked Thorin.

“Short of covert regicide? Perhaps…but as Nori pointed out, he already holds control over enough people with an iron fist of fear. Any opposition would swiftly be unsupported and crushed.”

“You know, you could always ask Dain in the Iron Hills for help,” suggested Bard. “He is your cousin, if I’m not mistaken?”

“Well, yes, but that would likely lead to full out war.”

Thorin shuddered as centuries of memories of various battles he’d witnessed around the world came to mind. The high prices brought on by the lives lost, destruction wrought, and ruin abounding were rarely worth the short reign of peace after the dust settled. “Let us hope it does not come down to that.”

“Everyone, back to the ship!” announced Bofur from the entrance. “Bard, it was lovely dealing with yeh, as always, but we’ve got places to go, things to collect, schedules to keep…yeh know how it is.”

“Aye, that’s true. May the winds carry you swiftly on your ways!”

“We’ll be back in a couple o’ weeks. Until then, farewell!” With a wave of his hat, the captain bounced out onto the dock and led the way back to the Ered Luin.

 

* * *

 

Kháris perched in a half crouch atop the roof of Bard’s shop, watching as the crew of the Ered Luin filed out from the entrance below. Not one moment later, she saw two figures – one was a Halfling, and the other was the captain’s portly brother – rejoin the group. Most of the dwarves greeted them with little more than an acknowledging nod, but three in particular seemed quite pleased to see the Halfling. In fact, the youngest of the bunch was obviously thrilled, gesturing widely and animatedly at everything around them and digging through their wares to show off their findings. As she looked even closer, both he and the blond one were glowing ever so faintly.

‘Ah, the orc wasn’t lying about the stars,’ she thought as she extracted her hand crossbow and gingerly opened her pouch of poison darts. ‘So, you’ve found yourself in the company of Bofur Bullroarer. The fool probably hasn’t even realized his guests are much more than they appear.’ She delicately slid a minute dart laced with a trace amount of hemlock from its leather bracket and loaded it into placed, pulling back the tiny crossbow until she felt a faint click. ‘You’ll never know what hit you,’ she though as she aimed at Fíli, who had fallen behind to chat with Ori at the back of the group.

A split second before she pulled the trigger, a throwing knife flew out from somewhere off to her left, expertly striking the end of the hand crossbow and making her dart whiz, harmless, into the water. She whirled and drew her own dagger to confront whomever had interrupted her mission, then flung it toward the direction she’d judged to be the origin of the previous knife.

Nori didn’t even flinch as the weapon passed inches to the right of his face. “You still turn your wrist too much, Kháris. I know I taught you better. Tell me, why are you attacking my new crewmates?”

Kháris scowled at him. “I should have known you would be on the lookout. Rather protective of your own, aren’t you? It really is too bad you left us before things really kicked off.”

“On the contrary,” Nori leaned against the gable and casually picked at the grime under his fingernails with another knife. “I left before I sold my soul to the dark prince’s corruption.”

Kháris hummed while she replaced her darts carefully within her coat. “Surely you must have noticed the Blue Dwarves in your midst with your keen eye for detail.”

Nori’s eyes flicked up. “I had noticed, yes.”

“Well, I come with a message from my lord Blacklock. He claims the stars and the Arkenstone for his own; there shall be no mercy either for this keeping them out of his reach. I was originally just going to scout and report back, but as soon as I identified a target, I figured if I took one back with me, my initiative would be rewarded.”

“Why are you doing this Kháris? You are no longer the dwarrowdam I once knew. Have you lost all sense of morality?”

“No, but…I don’t have a choice! I have to report back as the new head of the spies, and if I-“ She shut her mouth with a snap.

Nori arched an eyebrow. “You’re hiding something.”

“I can’t talk about it.”

“He didn’t…you know…you’re not…” Nori gestured toward her midsection.

“Oh, gods no! Nothing like that, it’s…no, I said I can’t tell you, stop trying to force it out of me!”

Nori shot out a hand to grip her forearm. “Spit it out Kháris! What has happened?!”

“I can’t, Nori! If I tell anybody…a great tragedy will befall. I just…look, you’d do the same if you were in my position!” Wrenching her arm away from his grasp, she turned and fled toward the far end of the quays, bounding from rooftop to rooftop until she was completely out of sight.

Nori didn’t follow her, though he did watch sadly before dashing back to his own company. “What have you gotten yourself into, Kháris?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Khuzdul bits:  
> Bofur kelechî buzru Ered Luin. Aknùr nahuba bên zârmimênu ni shuthû. – Bofur is trying to land the Ered Luin. Hold the beam or you will swim in the clouds.”
> 
> If you are unfamiliar with nautical terminology:  
> Port = left  
> Bow = very front of the ship  
> Stern = very back of the ship


	14. Everyday Life Aboard the Ered Luin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was really fun to write, and I hope you all enjoy it as much as I do! :D

**Chapter 14 – Everyday life aboard a skyship**

_CLANG!_

The elven dagger clattered to the deck as Bilbo cried out and leapt back before it could land on his foot. “What did you…when…how…”he muttered as he watched Dwalin twirl his own blade artfully. And he most certainly did not squeak when said dwarf leapt forward and tapped the end of his sword against the wooden board that served as Bilbo’s armor.

“Dead,” Dwalin huffed. “Rule number two of combat – never let your opponent disarm you. And if they do, retrieve your weapon, pull out a new one, or improvise as soon as possible.”

“What’s rule number one?” asked Bilbo as he bent down to pick up the dagger. He settled into a narrow stance as he held it outstretched, clasped awkwardly with both hands.

Dwalin rolled his eyes and stepped forward, easily sidestepping Bilbo’s swing and pushing the hobbit’s shoulder with a moderate amount of force. As Bilbo stumbled sideways, he rapped the side of his sword against the board on Bilbo’s back. “Dead. Always keep a sturdy stance. Don’t let your enemies shove you around.”

“Right. Sturdy stance. Got it.” Bilbo faced Dwalin again, fiercely determined as he planted his feet firmly with a wider stance.

“That’s better. Your center of weight is distributed around a larger area now. However…” with a roar, Dwalin charged forward, knocked Bilbo’s blade out of his hands and tapped his own against Bilbo’s front once more. “You’re still dead. Though I didn’t bowl you over this time, which may be an improvement. Maybe.”

Bilbo exhaled sharply and straightened his armor. “So what did I do wrong _this time_?”

“The second part of rule 1 – don’t forget your footwork. We didn’t spend all that time earlier drilling useless moves into you. Apply them to the circumstances. Move about if you have to, shifting fluidly from stance to stance. A novice would have easily dodged that.”

“Well you could have said that before assaulting me…and I am a novice…” Bilbo muttered under his breath, rubbing his sore arms. “Look, how long are we going to keep doing this today?” he demanded.

Dwalin shrugged. “Until you get something right. Reset.”

The two settled into a closer formation, and as Dwalin struck from the side, Bilbo managed to block successfully. “I did it! And I – oh bother.” Dwalin’s sword rested gently against the side of Bilbo’s neck.

“Your head is now rolling about five yards that way right about now. Oh look, it just rolled off the deck. What do you have to say for yourself?”

Bilbo sighed. “Well, if my head’s currently plummeting towards the earth, I very well wouldn’t be saying much of anything, now, would I?”

Dwalin snorted. “Indeed, you would not. But tell me – what did you do wrong?” He crossed his arms and gazed at Bilbo expectantly.

“I suppose…I…is one of the rules of combat ‘never let your guard down after minor victories?’”

“Precisely.” Dwalin poked Bilbo’s forehead. “We’ll have you thinking like a warrior yet. Now, off you go. That’s enough for today. Keep practicing and we’ll meet again same time tomorrow morning.”

Bilbo turned to find a small audience seated on some creates off to the side. Ori was busily scribbling something in the small leather journal he always seemed to have in his possession while Fíli, Kíli, and Thorin watched Bilbo’s approach. “So…how do you think I did?” he asked tentatively when he reached the group.

Fíli regarded him with an appraising squint. “Well, you aren’t that good yet, but for a first day,” he looked down and began picking at a loose thread on his cuff. “That wasn’t too bad, I suppose.”

“Fí, you know amad can always tell when you’re fibbing,” hissed Kíli.

“I heard that,” Bilbo swatted the two young stars lightly on their shoulders. “Now, honestly, how did I really do?”

Thorin spoke before either of the binaries. “Your footwork was sloppy, your moves were disjointed, and you wouldn’t last five minutes in a real battle. I’ve seen children do better on their first day of arms training.”

Bilbo glared at him. “Thank you for your excellent support. You’ve really helped me feel better about my self defense skills.”

“Um...Master Baggins, if I may have a moment of your time?” Ori tugged at Bilbo’s sleeve and passed over the journal. “I’ve started a log of your progress, and if you want, you can study my notes. I’ve written down all of what Mister Dwalin lectured you on earlier, drew sketches of proper drill form, and made comments about your performance in sparring just now. Theoretically, at least, I think it may help you. And as you practice more with Mister Dwalin, you can see trends unfold as your fighting style develops further, so you can learn what, specifically, you still need to improve.”

Bilbo smiled at the shy dwarf. “Thank you, Ori. Would you be able to copy this for me? I’d hate to deprive you of the ship’s log for too long.

“No need to worry!” Ori reached into his bulky cardigan and extracted another journal. “I have another log book. You can keep that one. As you can see, it’s new. I…um…Kíli, what are you doing?”

Kíli had grabbed Ori’s other arm and was patting down the sleeve. “I’m trying to figure out how many more of those you have hidden in here.”

“May I please have my arm back? A simple question would have been enough.”

“Oh, of course!” Kíli dropped the young dwarf’s limb.

“Thank you. I always have at least three at hand. Where was I?” Ori scratched at his chin as he tried to regain his train of thought.

“Your journal was new,” supplied Bilbo.

“Ah, yes. I got it back at Bard’s specifically to be your personal training log, so…just get it back to me sometime before your next sparring session.”

Bilbo took the journal and placed it carefully into one of his coat’s deep pockets. “I’ll be sure to do just that,” he said with a smile. Then he turned back to Thorin and placed his hands on his hips. “Now, you could learn a thing or two about thoughtfulness from this charming, young fellow.”

Thorin had to admit it was rather amusing watching the smaller being try to stare him down like that. “I gave you my honest opinion, as you had requested. I was unaware you wanted it as sugar-coated as yesterday’s teacakes.”

“Yesterday’s teacakes?! You know, you really…you know what? Never mind. I’ve been practicing swordplay for the entire morning, and it looks like rain later. It’s far past time for luncheon, too, and – would you pay attention?!”

Thorin had leaned over behind his crate. When he straightened back up, he thrust a plate into Bilbo’s arms.

“What’s this, then?”

“I’d think of all people, you’d recognize cucumber sandwiches when you saw them.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes. “I’m not brainless, you great oaf. What I meant was, why the sudden treatment to snacks?”

“I’ve noticed you’re quite fond of your foods, so I asked Bombur to make these for you. The captain told me they’re often eaten around this time or during afternoon tea in the Shire, so…” Thorin trailed off as Bilbo continued to stare at him. “If you don’t want them -“ he reached forward to retrieve the sandwiches.

“No!” Bilbo turned and blocked his outstretched hand by shielding the platter with his other arm. “They’re lovely. Thank you, Thorin.”

Fíli and Kíli smirked as they watched their uncle and traveling companion part ways, Bilbo marching off to the dining cabin to savor his small meal and Thorin moving to the railing to watch the land pass by below. “Hey, Ori…how much will you bet that these two acknowledge their hidden feelings by the time we land?”

Ori chuckled and replied, “You’ll have to take that up with my brother. I believe Nori’s already started a betting pool on them.”

 

* * *

 

“Heave! Don’t let that rope slip! That’s it, Dori! Put your backs into it lads!”

Kíli could barely hear Nori’s orders as the wind yanked his words out into the darkness surrounding the Ered Luin. He removed one hand from the rope he and Fíli were pulling to brush his wet fringe away from his eyes once again and grumbled. “Bilbo was right about this rain.”

“Don’t I know it,” muttered Fíli in reply.

“How much longer do you suppose we’ll be out here like this?”

“A lot longer if you don’t pull your weight! The rope’s slipping!”

“Sorry!” Kíli reclaimed his full hold on the rope before him and tugged as hard as he could. The copper contraption at the end of their rope groaned ominously.

“Oy! Youngsters!” Nori barked in their direction. “We’re collecting lightning, not holding a tug’o’war tourney! We need to attach the grids into their active positions, not dismantle them for storage. Not so hard!”

“Aye, sir!” the brothers shouted, adjusting their holds.

“That’s more like it. Hold steady, team, we –“ Nori paused as lighting flashed in the distance in a jagged fork, casting eerie shadows across the decks. Several storms’ worth of experience had taught him it was impossible to be heard over the thunder when the Ered Luin was aloft in the violent clouds. “We’re almost there!"

“She’s lined up, Nori!” Glóin clung to the ship’s exterior in a rope harness to monitor the progress as the crew above maneuvered the assembled grid toward its bracket.

“You know what to do, Dori!”

With a mighty heave on his rope, Dori moved the entire grid closer toward the ship and into its bracket. Glóin spider-walked across the hull toward it and slid the great binding pin into place. After ensuring it was fully secure, he removed a lantern from its housing nearby and waved it over his head, signaling for Bifur to hoist him back up. As soon as he was safely aboard, the two joined the rest of the crew gathering around Nori.

“Right, then. Good work, everyone. If this storm lasts nearly as long as the last one, we’ll have another good haul to deliver straight to the white wizard after we drop off our passengers.” He smiled as the crew cheered around him. “Ori and I will deliver a report to the captain. Now, I’m sure you all want a good ale or two as much as I.” A wave of chuckles resounded around the circle of dwarves. “Off you go! Below decks with you!”

“You mean we can’t stay and watch?” Kíli asked. He looked forlornly at the copper grids that spread from both sides of the ship like a great pair of metallic bat wings. They seemed to quiver and hum just before a small bolt of lightning hit the tip of the starboard grid and ran, fizzling with blue energy, down into the special hold.

Nori raised an eyebrow and let out an exasperated sigh. “If you want to be electrocuted by a stray bolt, be my guest. We’ve yet to lose anyone on a collection day, and I’m sure the captain’s with me on wanting to keep that record going.”

Fíli tugged his brother’s sleeve. “Come on, Kí. I’m sure we can find something else to do,” he added with a wink.

Kíli beamed at his brother and glowed slightly. “Oh, I get it. Lead the way, great mastermind.” He bowed toward the hatch leading to the ship’s corridors.

As the two boys began to run toward it, Dori emerged and caught the backs of their coats, holding them up like wayward kittens. “Hold on a moment. You two better not get into too much trouble, you hear? We’re a well-mannered crew, or at least I’d like to think we’re quite civilized.”

“Don’t worry, Mister Dori, we won’t get up to too much mischief.” Fíli replied with his most charming smile.

“We promise we won’t damage the ship.” An arc of white lightning surged above them, bouncing from one grid to the other. “May we go now?”

Dori released them and lightly pushed them forward. “Very well, off you go. But if I find you’ve caused any problems, I’ll have to file a discipline report with Dwalin.”

“Right. We’ll be sure to keep that in mind. Good night!”

Nori chuckled as he joined his brother. They stood together and watched the younger pair disappear below, jostling one another playfully as they ran. “Was I that much trouble when I was that young?”

Dori gave him a sidelong glance. “Oh no, you were much worse. I don’t know where young dwarrows get all their energy. Not only were you as cheery and enthusiastic as these two. You had this…wonderful knack of disappearing right when mum and I began looking for you.”

Nori shrugged and jogged off to fetch Ori and speak with Bofur, blending with the shadows between the ship’s lanterns. Dori rolled his eyes as he turned to go back to the dining hall. “You’ll probably still have that skill, even when you’re beard’s all gray and wispy like Óin’s,” he grumbled.

 

 

 

“That’s great, Kí. Just a little brighter…and…there it is!”

Fíli had found a hand mirror on one of the desks in an empty room a few turns back. After curiously inspecting it, he had discovered that the strange device would not only reflect his own image back at him, but it would also project light from his excited sparkle back as well.

At the moment, he was holding it before Kíli at just the right angle to cast his brother’s star-shine onto the wall in front of the next bend. The two had discovered that a brighter luminance caused the random bursts of light to coalesce into a dwarf-sized silhouette, almost like a shadow of light.

“Do you suppose I can make it dance?” Kíli gave a quick wave, and so did his projection.

Fíli shrugged. “Wouldn’t hurt to try.”

As Kíli began to move, the binaries heard a shriek around the bend followed by a thump and the tinkle of shattering glass. Fíli dropped the mirror, cutting off Kíli’s beam, and it too broke half a moment after the projection disappeared. “Looks like our fun’s cut short for the evening, Kí,” he whispered, meeting his brother’s panicked glance.

“Agreed. Come on, we better go help whoever’s around the corner.”

The jogged forward to find Óin sitting back with a quivering finger pointed at the wall. Fallen papers were strewn around him, books were scattered and upside with their pages crumpled, and a pile of discolored sludge had splattered among shards of glass, a few droplets having gone so far as to cling to the walls and leave a slimy trail behind them as they dripped down to the floor.

“There was a strange spirit on that wall just a moment ago. Made me drop my latest batch of salve! And – “ Óin cut short with a sharp intake of breath when he saw Kíli still shining faintly. “You!” he pointed now at Fíli, who was approaching with an arm outstretched. He pushed aside Fíli’s offer for help and scrambled up by himself and began to step back. “St-stay away from me, dark sorcerer!”

Fíli’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “Dark sorcery? No, I think you’re mistaken. My brother and I mean you no harm.” He held his hands out nonthreateningly as Kíli nodded.

Óin continued stepping backward slowly. “I don’t believe you. Clearly, you are the master of the spirit on the wall and now you’ve possessed your brother with it! The captain will hear of this!” He turned and ran down the corridor, leaving his things on the floor of the hall.

Fíli groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. Kíli giggled a little, and Fíli turned to him in frustration. “What is possibly funny about this?!”

“You know, you look just like Uncle when you do that. We’d better follow Óin with his things. I think some of this gooey stuff can be saved if we scoop if up into this tin that these cards are in.”

“He’s going to skin us alive when he hears about this, you know,” Fíli commented as they got to work cleaning up the mess.

Kíli sighed, nodded, and began to gingerly pick the shards out from the spilled salve. “You’re probably right. But you have to admit, that _was_ the most fun we’ve had in a while.”

Fíli conceded a small smile as he bent down to pick up the books. “It was. And I think that’s the brightest I’ve seen you since we jumped down here after Uncle last week.”

“Fí, it’s only been three days.”

“Has it? It feels longer than that.”

“Well, we’ve been busier than usual.”

“This is very true.” Fíli finished scooping up the papers into a haphazard pile and deposited them upon the books. “You ready?”

“Yeah, let’s go see what form of punishment the captain has in mind.”

 

 

 

Bofur sat at his desk, sanding down the edges of what would eventually be a toy boat, when Óin burst into his cabin. “Captain Bullroarer! They’re taking control of the Ered Luin!”

Bofur jumped up and gripped both of Oin’s shoulders. “Calm down, old friend! Now, what’s got yer beard in a knot? Who’s takin’ control o’ my vessel?”

“The evil spirits! I saw them, glowing and dancing on the walls two floors down. And the blond one’s clearly controlling them!”

“Yeh mean ghosts?”

“Aye, and they practically attacked me, and – “

Fíli and Kíli barged in at once, bursting through the narrow doorway and falling in a crumpled heap. “Captain, we’re sorry! We didn’t mean to frighten Óin –“

“We brought his stuff with us –“

“Mahal save us, he’s going to possess you, too, Bofur!”

“Excuse me! I’m not an evil spirit!”

“And we tried to clean up as much as we could –“

“Look, we even got most of whatever that stuff was into this tin here, and –“

“ _WOULD E’RYONE SHUT IT!!!_ ” Bofur roared. Silence filled the room as three sets of mouths snapped closed and the boys looked down at the floor.

Bofur looked back and forth between them. “That’s better. Now, Óin. Would you tell me _calmly_ what you think you saw?”

Óin cleared his throat and looked at the boys uncomfortably. “Well…there was a dwarf-like shape of light on the wall, and it seemed to be dancing.”

“Did it actually attack you?”

“No sir, but it did startle me, and I fell back in fright. Then these two came running out of nowhere, and Kíli was shining the same way, like he was possessed by whatever was on the wall. I think – “

Bofur waved a hand to cut him off. “That’s enough, Óin. I’d like to hear the tale from the boys’ view now. Fíli, are yeh actually the black mage Óin claims yeh to be?”

Fíli looked up sharply. “I don’t possess any magical capabilities, sir! I’m…we’re…well, um…” he looked worriedly at Kíli. “We’re not exactly from around here, you see.”

Bofur sighed and crouched down in front of them and pulled the young stars to their feet. “It’s okay, lads. I know where yeh come from. Don’t go shinin’ in random places from now on. Not the smartest of ideas out in the world where it’s not as safe as the halls of the Ered Luin.”

“But captain, Kíli was glowing unnaturally! At the very least, he has a skin condition that I cannae cure!” interrupted Óin.

“Óin…Fíli and Kíli are stars.”

“But they…oh. Yes, well.” Óin cleared his throat. “So…they’re not possessed by evil spirits.”

Bofur smiled at the elderly dwarf. “Not in the least.”

“And the…glowing…is natural, not a fatal condition?” He cleared his throat while Bofur nodded. “Well, stars or not, they still made me waste some of my precious concoctions. Captain, you know how long it takes to brew!”

Bofur placed a hand on his chin and nodded. “Yes, ye’r quite right. And I’ll not tolerate needless troublemaking’ aboard my ship. Left unchecked, it can lead to anarchy and disaster. So…how shall I deal with the two of yeh…”

Kíli stepped forward with worry clear in his eyes. “Please, sir, don’t throw us overboard! We promise we’ll behave from now on!” Fíli nodded behind him.

“Hm? Throw yeh overboard? Now, why on Arda would I do that?” He winked at Óin. “No, I’ve a better plan for yeh. For the duration of yer time with us here in the skies, yeh will spend yer mornin’s helpin’ Óin with whatever tasks he assigns yeh. Am I clear?” Fíli and Kíli nodded quickly. “Good. Now, to bed with yeh, and send yer uncle my way. He an’ I have things t’ discuss.”

“Yes, sir…” Fíli replied before exiting the cabin with his brother in tow.

Óin retrieved the pile of belongings Fíli had left on one of the armchairs and slowly made his way out as well. “Ach, they put it in the tin. It was in the glass for a reason…”

Bofur clapped Óin on the shoulder. “I’m sure they were only tryin’ to help. Don’t go too hard on ‘em, all right?”

“Yes, yes, all right.”

Bofur sat back down at his desk with his desk when Óin had gone. After a short while of just resting with his eyes closed, he picked the toy boat back up. Before he could resume working on it, though, knocking echoed through the cabin. Again the boat returned to its resting place upon the desktop as Bofur sat back rubbing his temples. “Bein’ captain seems to get harder every day.” He muttered. “Enter!”

Thorin stepped into the open area in the center of the room. “You summoned me.”

“Aye, that I did. Take a seat.” Bofur motioned toward the chair across from him and set his elbows on the desk, leaning his chin on his clasped hands. “I thought I’d let yeh know before you start wonderin’ where the lads’re disappearin’ to in the mornings. Yeh looked so frantic yesterday.”

Thorin sat down with a wary glance at the captain. “What did they break this time?”

Bofur sat straighter and waved one hand dismissively. “Oh, nothing that can’t be easily replaced at our next port. Except…”

Thorin leaned back and pinched his nose. “I knew it. They’ve gone and ruined something valuable and they’re trusting I’ll fix it for them. I do have some skills at-”

Bofur cleared his throat, interrupting Thorin. “Ye’re jumpin’ to conclusions before I’ve finished explaining the circumstances to yeh. They caused a spill o’ sorts and I’ve ordered them to be Óin’s personal assistants for the remainder of your trip with us.”

“Ah.” Thorin hummed as he nodded in consideration. “That should do them some good, I think. Hopefully they’ll learn to be more responsible for their actions. They can be entirely too rambunctious at times.”

“My thoughts exactly!” Bofur leaned forward in a conspiratorial manner. “Especially since they’ll be needin’ it more down here than they did in the celestial plane, am I right?”

Thorin stood quickly, knocking over the chair and nearly tripping on it as he stepped back quickly, eyes wide with suspicion. “How did you…how long have you known?”

Bofur tilted his head to the side. “It’s not that hard to figure out if yeh notice certain things that tend to happen around yeh and yer nephews. There’s no need to worry, not a soul aboard my ship wishes harm of yeh. In fact, we want to help. And I’ll be puttin’ your claims of crafting to the test if you break my furniture, yeh know. Ye’re probably not used to workin’ with wood, either.”

Thorin visibly calmed down and he had enough grace to look chagrined as he righted the chair and sat down in it once again, glancing askance at the captain. “What _do_ you have planned for us, then?”

Bofur spread his hands widely. “Like I said: only to help. We’ll get yeh where yeh need to go and send yeh off with our best wishes. By the way…there’s somethin’ I’ve been meanin’ to ask yeh.”

Thorin’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What of it?”

“I’ve just been wondering about yeh and Bilbo…yeh’ve been shining a little more brightly every day when yeh think nobody’s looking, and I think yeh know why.” Bofur winked at Thorin as the Blue Dwarf reddened ever so slightly and found sudden interest in the swirls of wood grain on the arm of his chair.

“There’s…we’re…nothing is going on between the two of us. We’re just two travelers who happened to meet one day and now he’s taking me to meet Lobelia in the Shire. That’s all.”

Thorin crossed his arms and glared at Bofur as if daring him to assume more.

Bofur let out a disappointed hum. “Not often are my intuitions wrong about these sorts of things. But if yeh say so, then so it shall be. What are yer intentions after visitin’ the Shire, if I may ask? Will yeh be returnin’ to yer family up above with yer nephews?”

Thorin nodded shortly. “That was the plan, yes.”

“Was?” Bofur leaned further with a twinkle in his eyes.

“Is. That _is_ the plan.” Thorin corrected himself.

“No, no,” Bofur jabbed a finger toward Thorin. “You said ‘was.’”

Thorin swatted Bofur’s hand aside. “That is the plan, but…”

“But?”

“I was thinking…maybe…no, it’s not possible anyways, so why bother.”

“Ah, ha! I knew there was more to this story!” Bofur sat back with smug satisfaction. “Well, when yeh get yer heart sorted out, send me a letter, and I’ll say ‘I told yeh so!’ back. Ye’re thinkin’ of sendin’ yer nephews home but stayin’ here yerself, aren’t yeh?”

“No! Yes…I don’t know…with the distance required, a candle will likely only send back two of us, and I’d rather have them where I know they’re safe and looked after. And from what Bilbo’s told me about certain…pairings in the Shire…look. You know more about halflings than I do. Is there any chance of convincing Bilbo to move away from Bag End?”

Bofur hummed and closed his eyes in thought. “Well, there’s the catch.” He caught Thorin’s gaze. “Ye’re worried about lettin’ him know yer true feelings and havin’ yer heart broken because of his home, aren’t yeh? Don’t lie to me now or evade the question.” Thorin nodded slightly. “The tricky thing is…hobbits have strong ties to their homes and families. They’re almost held sacred in their society, it seems. Bilbo will likely do everything that he can to keep Bag End. I wish I had advice for yeh, but I’ve only ever once heard tales of one hobbit in Arda, and the tales end with her returnin’ across the wall and she was never heard from again. Or at least that’s what I heard.”

“I see.” Thorin sighed and slowly stood up. “Well, Captain Bullroarer, you’ve given me a lot to think about. I’m sure we’ll see each other at some point tomorrow.”

“Yes! Good night, Thorin.” He picked up the toy boat as Thorin strode toward the cabin door. When Thorin had opened it and was about to exit, he looked back up. “Oh, and Thorin?”

Thorin turned and made eye contact with the captain. “What is it?”

Bofur shot him a crooked smile. “Do try and get some sleep tonight, especially if ye’re travellin’ during the day after leavin’ us. Those bags beneath yer eyes are doin’ nothin’ for yer complexion and rugged charm.”

Thorin’s only response was to roll his eyes and wave as he turned and left. Bofur chuckled to himself in the solitude of his cabin. “If this works out as I hope it will, they’ll have to call me the Matchmaker of Stars...lovely title, that is. Now then! Where was I…” he muttered to his craft as he picked up his polishing cloth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we're approximately halfway through Akumin Gimlaz! I can't believe how much this story as grown already! It's nearly 100 pages in Microsoft Word. If I went back in time and told myself this when I first started writing, I probably would have laughed at myself and said "I can't possibly write that much on a single work!" Ha. Ha ha ha.
> 
> I'd like to thank all my wonderful readers for their comments. It gets quite lonely out here in Colorado away from all my friends, and it really is a pick-me-up to discover I have new readers who love my fic and can't wait to read more. You guys are awesome! :D
> 
> I'm curious...would any of you be interested in little side ficlets concerning my head canons for this AU? I may be inclined to write some for prompts/questions left in my tumblr message box (draconic-doc)


	15. In the Dark of the Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: somewhat graphic violence and attempted kidnapping

**Chapter 15 – In the Dark of the Night**

Bolg took in a deep breath as he looked out from the shore toward where he knew the town of men lay hidden, and a twisted grimace spread across his face. Despite what most people would think if they saw him at that moment, the pale orc was pleased. Esgaroth floated in a deep fog that rose up from the lake as the temperature dwindled in the depths of the night. It was perfect cover for his team of stealthy orcs. All they had to do was sneak in, snatch the stars if they’d caught up to the skyship, and return to the Dark Lord with their prizes in tow. And if they missed the ship and the stars, he knew of a shop which sold all manner of strange and rare items. He had no doubt it held a Belegost candle or two, ripe for the taking.

<Bring forth the boats,> Bolg growled in a low, harsh whisper that carried through the stagnant air. His henchmen followed his command and slid the flat, rounded vessels into the water at the lake’s edge. The slight hiss of birch bark sounding against the pebbly shore was the only herald of their actions. Once all six orcs were crouched low inside them, they shoved off and paddled in the direction of the town. So slow and silent was their progress in their relentless advance that no sound was made, save a subtle swish of lazy eddies in the wake of the paddles. Had any of the patrolling watchmen heard their approach, the sounds would have been indistinguishable from the common splash of a fish fin breaching the surface of the lake and then slipping back into the water.

As they neared the docks, Bolg could see some of the town’s guards patrolling the docks. The faint, spherical glows of lantern light marked their positions in the fog, bobbing back and forth along the walkways with every step they took. He signaled for the paddling to cease and they allowed the canoes to glide soundlessly up to the wood. The orcs all climbed out and up, eluding the guards and creeping up behind them.

Clawed grips and a sudden sting were the last things the watchmen knew as the orcs slit their throats from behind. The creatures supported the men who they fell with little more than pained gasps as the life drained from them. After ensuring they were dead, the orcs lowered the guards into the lake to feed the fishes. Ideally, they would not be missed until the shift change come morning’s first light.

As the small band wandered the piers, it became clearer with each passing moment that they’d missed the Blue Dwarves. The only boat larger than a fishing schooner or merchant’s ship was the Master’s private sailing yacht. The longer Bolg gazed at it in frustration, the more its gaudy paint and decorations seemed to mock him for his failure. Gutting the thing out of spite and watching the greedy waters swallow it up as it slid into the lake’s depths would be amusing, but that would also be counterproductive to the mission. He turned from it with a soft snarl, and signaled for the group to scale the houses’ walls.

If anyone woke to the sounds of the loose wooden shingles clacking together as the orcs slunk across the rooftops, they merely assumed that the village cats were on a prowl. Rolling back over in their beds, they were content in the belief that there would be fewer rats scurrying about come morning.

The orcs,undetected, steadily moved closer and closer to Bard’s shop.

 

 

“Sigrid, go and close the shutters downstairs while your brother locks the shop.”

“Yes, father.” The teenage girl set down her book and jogged down the stairs, holding up her skirts so as not to trip on the hem.

Bard followed her at a slower pace and stopped upon the top landing at the back of the shop. “And if you see Tilda, tell her it’s past her bedtime!” As he leaned on the banister, he heard a continuous scratching sound coming from above. Frowning, he straightened and glanced suspiciously at the ceiling. “Bain, don’t forget the back door.   I’ll be back in a moment."

Bard disappeared into his family’s quarters above the shop just as an orc broke through the shutters Sigrid had just closed. A spray of woodchips and glass shards flew inward, and she shrieked as she covered her head and backed into the corner. Another orc burst through the window on her other side, followed closely by Bolg.

The first orc grabbed her wrist and pulled her close. “Looks like we’ve got us some fresh meat!” he said in a slow, harsh voice. He spoke too little of the common tongue to do anything other than stumble over the words.

“Let go of me!” Sigrid yelled, clawing at the orc’s eyes with her free hand and pulling back with all her strength to try and free herself from the grapple.

The orc easily dodged her flailing hand. “Oooh, the tenderling has some fight, does she? BE STILL!” He delivered a powerful, backhanded slap. Dazed, Sigrid sank to her feet.

<Find the candles! They must be here somewhere! Empty every drawer, rip open every chest! Get to work!> Bolg barked as the other three orcs filtered in through the two ruined windows. <And you!> He jabbed the orc that still had Sigrid in her clutches. <Wrap up the wench to go. Make sure she can’t squeak anymore!>

“Oi! You let go of my sister!” Bain charged in from the back hall wielding a candelabra. Bolg easily sidestepped him and wrenched the object from the boy’s grip, then pushed him to the floor. He laughed as he bent down and wrapped a strong hand around Bain’s relatively scrawny throat to yank the boy up to eye level. Bain gripped the orc’s pale wrist with both hands and kicked his feet, flailing in midair.

“You have much spirit, whelp,” Bolg spat. “We’ll pack you up with your sister there and have good sport breaking you before we strip the flesh from your bones.” He threw Bain down next to Sigrid, where he sprawled and choked, coughing to catch his breath. <Tie them together, NOW!> he bellowed, spittle flying

As Bolg’s underling forced putrid rags into the older children’s mouths, Bard crept back out to take the orcs by surprise. He strung his bow, kneeling just outside the store’s rear staircase. He turned when he felt a small, quick tug on the back of his long coat. He glanced over his shoulder to see his youngest daughter clutching her doll tightly, her eyes wide with fear. “Tilda! What are you doing?! Go hide!” he hissed.

“Papa!” she whispered. “The monsters have Bain and Sigrid! I think they’re going to eat them!”

Bard turned and set a hand on her shoulder. “Not if I can do something about it.” He paused briefly as he sat back on his heels, considering the young girl quivering before him. “Actually, can you do something for me?”

Tilda nodded.

Bard placed both hands on her shoulders gently and leaned close. “I need you to be a brave girl and run to the balcony. Ring the burglar alarm to call the guards. Can you handle that?”

Tilda nodded again, then turned and scampered up further up the stairs. Bard turned back to the store. The orc had finished binding Sigrid and Bain and was beginning to climb out the window with them slung over his shoulders. Bard drew an arrow from his quiver, setting it to the string. He pulled it back with confidence and let it fly.

The arrow found its new home through the orc’s side, piercing his lung and heart. With a startled, gurgling cry, he dropped his load and fell outside onto the planks with a heavy thud. Bolg stopped ransacking the sales counter and whirled around, glaring in confusion as he tried to locate the archer.

“Hey! Up here, you filth!” Bard stepped into view on the top landing with another arrow already nocked in place as a bell up above began to chime out its shrill warning. He loosed the arrow at the pale orc, but Bolg dodged, and it bit into the wooden floor near the front door instead of the orc’s hide.

  
Sneering, Bolg pulled out his mace and prepared to leap up the stairs toward his assailant. He was stopped when his second in command grabbed his arm, slowing his charge as Bolg dragged the smaller orc a few steps before coming to a complete stop. <We have the candles, your greatness!>

Bolg growled and brusquely swung his arm, flinging the lieutenant into a rack, which toppled over with a clatter. He turned around to confirm that the Belegost candles were in the group’s possession and strode to claim them. He casually ducked as another of Bard’s arrows whizzed past and took down another of his underlings. <We have what we came for. MOVE OUT!!!> he commanded. <And leave the manlings behind. They will only slow us down!>

As he swung out the window, Bolg turned to face Bard once again. “You are lucky today, human scum! When next we meet, you and your spawn will not be so fortunate!”

As the orc disappeared out the window, Bard ran down the stairs to untie his struggling children. Once freed, Bain and Sigrid tackled him with strong hugs, and he wrapped an arm around each of them. “Thank the Valar you’re both okay,” Bard breathed out a sigh of relief. “I thought I was about to lose you both!”

Tilda didn’t want to be left out, so she tugged on Bard’s sleeve to be let in to the family’s embrace. “Did I do good, Papa?”

Bard smiled at his youngest and tugged her pigtails lightly. “Yes, you did very well, little bobbin.” He picked her up as he stood and set her upon his shoulders, then turned to survey the wreckage of his shop. He tutted as he saw the amount of broken goods. “This will cost a fortune to repair or replace.”

Bain moved to his father’s side, rubbing his wrists where the orcs had bound them. “Can we manage it? I can pick up some shifts at the general store to help out.”

“And I can mend nets for the fishermen!” Sigrid chimed in.

“The old lady next door always tells me I’m too young to help,” pouted Tilda. “But…you don’t have to get those little pies for a while, Papa. If it would help us.”

Bard smiled up at his younger daughter. “It would help very much. I’m sure we’ll manage.” He glanced from Bard to Sigrid before moving upstairs. “We always have.”

 

 

When they were a safe distance from Esgaroth, Bolg’s lieutenant spoke up. <Do we light the Belegost candles now, oh mighty one?>

<No, not yet,> the large orc answered as they made their way toward the group of wargs concealed in the scrubby brush that grew along the lake’s southeastern banks. The two were the lone survivors of the band of stealth orcs, but at least the mission hadn’t been a complete waste. <We need enough numbers to take the stars alive.>

<Of course, great one.> The smaller orc bowed aside to retrieve Bolg’s warg.

<We claim the Blue Dwarves in two days’ time when they least expect it.> Bolg muttered as he mounted up. <Back to Dol Guldur!>

 

* * *

 

 

The Misty Mountains rose in great, craggy blocks before the Ered Luin, blocking its westward progression lest they rise to altitudes too high for the crew to handle. Below them, a turquoise, tear-drop shaped pond glistened in the sunlight, shining like a beacon. It was there that Nori landed the ship, lightly touching it down with the slightest of splashes that radiated out to the levees that formed the lake’s border.

The crew clapped as the first mate stepped down from the wheel platform and gave a flourishing bow. Captain Bullroarer approached and shook his hand. “Well done, Nori! One of these days, yeh _must_ tell me how yeh do that as neatly as yeh do. I’d’ve drenched us all in this freezing alpine water!”

Nori shrugged. “It’s easy, captain. You just have to feel the ship before she decides to roll us over and adjust her course, light-like. Don’t fight the descent, and all that.”

Bilbo strolled over to join the pair. “That was much more pleasant than our arrival at Laketown. You nearly tipped me out of my bunk!” he added with a chuckle.

Bofur smiled sheepishly as he scratched the back of his neck. “I do tend to overcast the balance a bit.”

“If you call a lot a bit,” Nori mumbled.

The three laughed while Bilbo glanced about briefly and patted down his pockets. “Well then, would this be the place where we leave you?” he asked when Bofur had stopped giggling.

“Aye, this’d be it. We can stay for a bit while yeh pack up yer things. And I think Dwalin wanted t’ get in one last sparring match with yeh. Yeh’ve come a long way with that little sword of yers since yeh started.”

“You’ve seen my attempts at combat, have you?” Bilbo placed his hands in his pockets and stretched up onto his toes. He sighed when he settled back down on his heels. “I still haven’t managed to land a hit, though.”

Nori crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned back against the mast. “That’s because you’re fighting like a warrior. He’s big, strong, and unrelenting, yes?” Bilbo nodded. “So what?” Nori poked the middle of Bilbo’s chest. “You’re small, fast, and light on your feet. Try to dodge and duck to be harder to hit, and sneak in lighter strikes to viral areas. Use his momentum against him, fight dirty if you have to. That sort of stuff."

Bilbo blinked. “I never thought to use my size to my own advantage. Thanks for the tip, Nori.”

Nori casually waved a hand. “Don’t mention it. There are lots of beings in this world that are bigger than you. You have to be quick to survive out there.”

“See, this is why he’s my first mate,” Bofur bumped Nori with his shoulder, jostling him playfully off the mast. “I look forward to watching you surprise Dwalin later on. Now then!” he clapped and rubbed his hands together, turning to face the deck. “Where have the rest of our guests gotten to?”

Fíli, Kíli, and Thorin stood at the bow, admiring the proud cliffs to their left. “They really do look more grand from up close, don’t they?” asked Kíli as he watched a hawk glide through the air in the distance.

Thorin hummed in agreement before gazing around the lake. “From up above, they look like spiny lines, rippling as they cross over the surface of the world – a clear barrier between the lands. Strong and unwavering, they endure, while the rivers change course in the landscapes around the mountain chains.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the sensation of the breeze playing with his thick mane, then returned his view to the stone ahead. “Now as I gaze out, I find them inspiring as they stand tall and proud before the rolling hills of the lowlands. They truly are fine, majestic features. But…” he trailed off as he scanned the lake’s edge and his eyes traced the shoreline, brows coming together as he surveyed the shallowness at the pointed end.

Fíli watched him with clear concern. “Do you know this place, Uncle?”

Thorin shook his head slowly, as if to clear it. “Clearly I have never been here, and yet…I can’t be sure. Something about it seems hauntingly familiar.”

“Thorin! Fíli, Kíli!” Bilbo called out as he jogged up to the trio. “It’s time to – Thorin, are you okay?”

Thorin continued to stare across the water. “Yes, I think so. This lake is unsettlingly familiar, but I can’t recall why.”

“Hm.” Bilbo followed Fíli and Kíli’s glances around the shoreline. “You know what? I bet if you took the water out, this area would look just like the place where I found you.”

Fíli, Kíli, and Thorin all turned to stare at him, and Thorin’s expression grew pained. “So that’s it…this must be where my father or grandfather fell. It happened so long ago.” He turned to look up at the peaks around them once more, hands spread wide on the Ered Luin’s railing. “I didn’t recognize these mountains, but one of them did land near a chain of them.”

Bilbo placed a hand on one of Thorin’s. “Thorin, I…I’m sorry if I brought up sorrowful memories. It was not my intention. Oh, blast it all! Why must I always be so insensitive?”

Thorin glanced over sideways at Bilbo with a small smile. “I’ll be fine. What’s done is done, and I’ve moved past their deaths. To be honest, I’m actually glad we’re here. We can pay homage to their memories. I only hope that our similar arrivals in Arda don’t dictate the same fate for us.”

“ _Bilbo, where are you? We have one last match, remember?_ ” Dwalin’s call was faint in the distance.

Bilbo sighed and faced the main deck. “Well, I suppose it’s time for one last duel.” He turned his head to look inquisitively up at Thorin. “Will you be coming to watch?”

“Of course we will!” Kíli’s beamed as he shone in the daylight.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” said Fíli with his own charming grin.

Thorin placed a hand on Bilbo’s shoulder and offered a warm smile. “I’d be honored to witness your well-earned victory.”

 

 

The entire crew stood gathered in a ring around the portion of the deck which had served as Bilbo’s training arena. Bilbo and Dwalin stood in opposite edges. “Are you ready for our final duel, Master Baggins?” asked the burly dwarf as removed grasper and keeper from their holsters on his back.

Bilbo whipped out his elven dagger with a flourish and shot him a confident smirk. “Are you?”

Dwalin snorted. “Aye. Let’s see if your fancy moves match your combat expertise. Begin!”

The two fighters circled around one another, step matching step, eyes locked. Dwalin had an almost predatory gait, while Bilbo leaning forward slightly, arms spread a little, but still poised and ready to react quickly. Bilbo felt near to quivering from the level of focus he maintained and waited patiently for his adversary to strike.

Within moments, Dwalin lunged with a flurry of blows. While Bilbo had yet to achieve the grace which comes from practice and finely honed reflexes, he managed to deflect or block each one. He sprang back lithely as Dwalin brought both axes straight down with a bellow.

“Good, good! Your defensive moves have improved significantly since we first started. But surely you must be getting tired,” Dwalin remarked as he backed to the edge of the ring.

Bilbo shot him a brilliant smile. “I can keep doing this all afternoon.” He gave the air before him a few quick swipes with his blade. “You’re the one doing all the work.”

“Yes, well,” Dwalin grunted. “You’ll not defeat any foes by dancing in place. To vanquish them you need at least some offensive strategy.” Without warning, the dwarf surged forward with his axes held back to his left for a mighty double sweep.

Bilbo knew from a few days’ experience that he wasn’t strong enough to hold his ground if Dwalin was using his full strength. Rather than try to block, he lowered himself in a tight crouch so his back was at the dwarf’s knee level. When Dwalin was almost upon him, he straightened himself upward and back as hard as he could in attempt to trip the charging dwarf.

The crew gasped as Dwalin somersaulted over Bilbo and his back thudded onto the deck. Dwalin was momentarily dazed as the wind rushed out of his lungs from the impact. Before he knew it, Bilbo was towering over him, pinning him to the deck with one knee planted firmly upon his chest plate. Bilbo’s dagger rested lightly at his throat. “How’s _that_ for an offensive strategy?” the hobbit asked as Dwalin stared up at him incredulously.

Silence surrounded the pair at first, then Fíli called out “Way to go, Bilbo!” and they were enveloped by cheers and applause. Bilbo stepped back and held out a hand toward Dwalin. He couldn’t help but notice Thorin’s strong shine and approving grin from the sidelines as he pulled the dwarf before him to his feet.

“Where in all of Arda did you learn that trick?” Dwalin asked with a huff as he clapped a hand to Bilbo’s shoulder in congratulations.

“Oh, you know,” Bilbo shrugged. “You pick things up from the crew.”

Dwalin scanned the ring around him until he caught Nori’s proud smirk and wink and shook his head with a small, fond smile. “Well, Baggins, I feel fairly comfortable unleashing you upon the wilds. You’ve got a fighting chance now. In time you’ll be able to handle most skirmishes with ease.”

Bilbo smiled at him and turned to approach the binaries. As he neared, Fíli held out his blue jacket. “You were brilliant, Bilbo."

Thorin nodded in agreement and smiled softly. “This new style suits you, Halfling.”

Kíli passed over Bilbo’s new travelling pack when he had finished buttoning the garment closed. “Can I try battling you at some point?” he asked with a hopeful smile.

Bilbo chuckled as he shouldered his pack and ruffled the young star’s hair as if he were a fauntling and not the taller Blue Dwarf before him. “Perhaps, if we get a break during our travels.” He turned to Captain Bullroarer. “We do have to depart now, though.   I looked at a few of Balin’s maps, and we still have a ways to go in a few short days if we are to get to the Shire in time.”

Bofur nodded and then pointed his thumb behind him toward the gangplank. “I had some of the lads prepare for yer disembarking while yeh were getting’ yer things. I’ll meet yeh there shortly. I just have to go retrieve a partin’ gift.”

“That’s really not necessary,” Bilbo called after him as we walked to his cabin.

Bofur waved a hand in the air behind him. “Nonsense, of course it is!”

Bilbo, Thorin, Fíli, and Kíli shook each dwarf’s hand as they passed to the exit. Bombur gave them each some fresh waybread for the road, and Óin gave both boys some vials of the new salve the three had concocted the previous day. “Try to keep out of so much trouble, young rascals,” he grumbled.

“Trouble? Who, us?” they replied in unison before thanking him politely and trotting down to the stone below.

Ori gave Thorin a journal filled of sketches of their group involved in various tasks around the Ered Luin. “These are excellently done, young one.” Thorin muttered as he flipped through the pages. Thank you for capturing these memories.”

Ori smiled shyly as he shuffled and pulled at his mittens. “It was a pleasure, Mister Thorin. Drawing has always been a hobby of mine, and I’ve practiced quite a bit. Keep safe during your travels!”

By the time the four reached the end of the line, Bofur had returned bearing a red leather tube that was buckled tightly shut. “I figured yeh might need this more than us,” he said as he put the strap over Bilbo’s head. “It’s some of the lightning yeh helped us collect. May it serve yeh well if yeh get into a tight scrape.”

“Bofur, this is…this is too much. I can’t possibly accept it.” Bilbo moved to take the strap off and extended the tube out toward the captain.

Bofur fixed Bilbo with a pointed stare. “If yeh don’t take it, I’ll just throw it down after yeh when leave. Yeh know I’m dead serious about that. Besides, yeh _have_ earned it, as a group. Perhaps I’ll just give it to Kíli, and –“

“Ah, no.” Bilbo snatched the tube close and clutched the stored lightning to his chest. “That probably would not be the wisest decision.” He adjusted it so that it was clipped to the side of his pack and not banging loosely against his side, then patted the end of it as he directed his attention back to Bofur. “I’ll take it! Thank you for all that you’ve done for us.”

Thorin felt a small seed of jealousy grow within him as he watched Bilbo embrace Captain Bullroarer briefly before waving one last goodbye to everybody. As he shifted his pack and trudged after the hobbit, growling about ‘handsy dwarves,’ Bofur caught his forearm and pulled him in close.

As Bilbo reached the solid ground at the alpine lake’s edge, he turned, wondering why he didn’t hear the clomps of his companions’ boots descending down the gangplank. He saw Bofur whisper something to Thorin and pat his shoulder. Then the captain pulled back, and Bilbo heard his next statement. “Just something to think about before yeh do something incredibly dense.”

Thorin nodded solemnly. “I will,” he replied as he shook the captain’s hand. Without another word, he too left the Ered Luin’s deck and settled into place beside Bilbo, staring up at the mountain pass before the four of them.

Bilbo eyed him curiously as he turned slowly to watch the Ered Luin rise and fly into the east. “What was that all about?”

Thorin looked down at Bilbo and smiled softly, a barely discernable glitter spreading across his features. “I’ll tell you later. Fíli, Kíli! Stop splashing – you’ll fall in and then you’ll likely freeze up there. Come, let us depart. We have a mountain to climb.”

 

* * *

 

The shadows that filled the hollows of Dol Guldur writhed restlessly as the flock of crebain returned and wheeled, croaking and caterwauling, in the black courtyard. Grinnah listened intently to their message and cowered in fear as a bolt of darkness suddenly struck out at a nearby tower. The hall echoed with the shrieks and grunts of goblins and orcs alike as the stone burst apart and its inhabitants tumbled down, down to be crushed amidst the falling rubble. He skittered into a side tunnel and climbed a decrepit staircase to the Goblin King’s chambers.

“Your malevolence!” he panted, vowing and clutching his sides until he caught his breath. “The crebain have returned.”

The massive goblin sitting upon the throne before him looked up with interest. “Oh? And what news did they bring this time?”

Grinnah stood a little taller as he delivered his report. “The dwarven skyship has landed in Crater Lake. Bolg let the stars escape again. The Dark Lord grows impatient.” He twisted his hand together as he looked expectantly up at the great goblin.

“Angered at his beloved pets’ repeated incompetency, is he?” the Goblin King’s eyes glittered with mirth as he leaned forward, gullet wobbling back and forth as he chuckled. “I think it’s time we goblins snatched some glory for ourselves, don’t you?” he pointed a crooked, fungus-laden finger at his chief underling.

Grinnah bowed low, gangly arms sweeping the ground. “Shall I send word to have your litter readied?”

“Do so with haste!” the lesser goblins before the bone-encrusted throne squeaked and groaned as the Goblin King used their piled bodies as a footstool while he stepped down. He moved to an alcove and retrieved a spear with a wickedly curved tip, smiling darkly as it glinted in the flickering torchlight. “It’s high time we paid a visit to the Misty Mountains. Those filthy Blue Dwarves think they’ve escaped, do they?” he cackled as he waddled to the window and gazed out and up at the nearby peaks. “The fools will soon find out they’re in a much more treacherous position than they realize.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 16 is being a pain in the butt to write but hopefully soon I can figure it out. I know where I want it to go, and I know what conversations I want to happen, the trick is actually getting the characters to those points!
> 
> In the meantime, I don't know how many of you all noticed, but I did have a little ficlet request and there's a fun little short story with Fíli and Sigrid under "Ficlets from the Akumin Gimlaz 'verse." I'd be happy to write more of such stories of things that I imagine have happened before or during the main fic (obviously, not gonna spoil future stuff for everyone).


	16. Close Encounters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have many things to say about the lack of promptness I've had with this, but y'all probably just want to read the chapter, so see the end notes for author's personal update.

Bilbo stopped for a moment to catch his breath, clinging to the side of the enormous boulder that completely blocked the path. His time aboard the Ered Luin had helped him adjust to higher altitudes a bit, but the air upon the peaks was much thinner than he would like.   The mountain pass that he and the Blue Dwarves travelled had seemed straightforward enough when they began up the mountain, not unlike a steeper version of a stroll through the hills around Tuckborough. However, it had become clearer with each switchback in the trail how little it was actually used. By this point, Bilbo was beginning to doubt that it even _was_ a pass and not more of an old ravine carved out by rivers or ice.

Thorin was standing atop the boulder that lay wedged between two walls of rock, gazing forward up the slope while Fíli and Kíli finished scaling it. Once at the top, Kíli turned around and leaned over into Bilbo’s view. “Hurry up, Bilbo! You’re doing just fine. Look, you’re already halfway there!" 

Bilbo glared up at the young star. “Look, this is not as easy as you three made it out to be. Back in the Shire, we don’t have mountains to climb.”

Fíli chuckled at Bilbo’s excuse. “And what makes you think we have mountains to climb up by our nebula?”

“Well, um…that’s not the point!” Bilbo slowly began to make his way up the rest of the boulder. “Trees are easy enough to climb – Thorin can attest to my skill at that – but this? I know we are in a hurry, but I would much rather not slip and dash my head on the rocks below. No thank you! So, unless you have some rope in that pack of yours to lower and help me out, I will take my own sweet time!”

“There’s no need to get upset,” Kíli pouted. “Besides, it looks quite clear further ahead. This seems to be the only obstacle for some time.”

Thorin motioned Fíli and Kíli to his side. “I would like you two to scout ahead a little bit. I’m not satisfied with this sudden clearing, and I’ve seen countless ambushes occur in places like this. Stay alert and return swiftly before the sun reaches its low point. I’ll stay here with our halfling.”

Fíli and Kíli obeyed and slid down the side of the boulder to the path below. Thorin turned back toward the boulder’s front and noticed Bilbo struggling to get a firm grip. He shook his head and climbed down. “Come on, Bilbo. You’re nearly there. Look. Up to your left, there’s a nice sturdy pocket. That’s it. Now, pull yourself up and put your foot here next to mine.” With Thorin’s direction, the two reached the top without further incident, and Bilbo lay on his back for a while, chest heaving from the exertion of his climb.

“You know,” Thorin muttered as he watched Bilbo recover, “you really need to work on your bouldering skills.”

“Yes, well…be that as it may…” Bilbo sat up slowly and examined his fingertips. He felt his Baggins upbringing cringe at the scrapes and dirt streaks. “Why do you still call me ‘halfling?’ We’ve been over this – I’m a hobbit. And proper hobbits most certainly do not climb boulders.”

“True, you were brought up as a hobbit, but you’re not fully hobbit, are you? You’re half dwarf, and the past few days you’ve been far more dwarven than hobbit. And indeed, if proper hobbits don’t go rock climbing, I’d imagine it’s an activity that most dwarves would enjoy somewhat. I can easily imagine Dwalin chasing thieves up and down cliffs, for example.”

“Yes, well, I think we should be going.” Bilbo stood up and brushed some of the dust off his blue jacket. “How do we get down?”

Thorin nodded toward the right side of the trail. “The rock’s more polished over there.   Fíli and Kíli didn’t even have to climb down. It’s not the most dignified way, but it certainly is efficient.” He held out a hand to help Bilbo up. “Shall we?”

Bilbo and Thorin slid down the rear face of the boulder and continued to hike up the pass. Bilbo looked from side to side up the ravine cliffs and scrunched his eyebrows together. “How do you suppose this even got here, anyways?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, look. The mountains on either side of us don’t look that loose. Unless it happened ages ago, I doubt that rock just fell off locally. So then, how did it get there?”

Thorin smirked over at Bilbo. “Before I fell, I’d seen giants tossing rocks before down on the surface below. They were much easier to spot than tiny mountaineers.”

Bilbo shuddered a little. “Giants, huh? Well I certainly hope they’re not insulted by travelers in their area. We’re small enough. We should be able to escape notice.”

Thorin shrugged and the conversation died. Before long, the two noticed deep, wide cracks in the sides of the cliffs. “Look sharp,” Thorin whispered. “These look suspiciously like they open into caves, and such caves are seldom unoccupied. At least, up in the asteroids they are. I don’t see why it would be any different down here.”

Bilbo nodded and whispered back. “We have badgers in the Shire that live in holes, and you can usually find some sort of creature in abandoned ones.”

“Hobbits live in holes, yes?” Thorin nudged Bilbo’s shoulder.

Bilbo rolled his eyes. “Yes, I suppose. Our homes are indeed built into the hills, but we prefer to call them smials. ‘Hole’ just brings to mind dirt, and oozy smells, and slimy worms.”

As they passed an even wider crevice, Bilbo’s ear twitched. He paused and threw an arm across Thorin’s chest to halt his companion. “What is it? What do you hear?” Thorin whispered.

“ _Shh!_ I need to hear!” Bilbo hissed back. Yes, those were definitely echoes of many feet scrabbling across a hard surface. He looked around briefly and found a narrow crag off to the side a bit further down and upon quick examination, revealed it to be just a dip that would hide the two of them if need be. Without another word, he tugged Thorin’s coat and maneuvered him into the close quarters.

“Bilbo? What are you-“ Thorin began.

“ _Shhh!!!_ They’re coming!”

Bilbo could tell Thorin now heard the coming threat, given his companion’s sharp intake of breath as suddenly watched the opening in the rock wall warily. Of course, one would have to be deaf not to hear them as they filed out of the fissure the two had passed not half a moment earlier. Bilbo looked over his shoulder as they began to pass the cramped space the two were hiding in. These beings were truly grotesque and distorted, all disproportionate limbs and leaking boils and stooped, uneven gaits. “What are these wretched creatures?” Bilbo whispered, leaning in a little closer to ensure only Thorin heard him.

“I’d always thought they were ugly when he could see them from his vantage point in the sky, but now I know for sure,” Thorin whispered back. “I do not know what they are called here in Arda, but up above we call them lurkers.”

An entire parade passed by, singing about shattering bones and crushing necks and all sorts of unsavory actions. There must have been dozens of them. At the back of them all was the Goblin King himself, lounging upon his litter and waving his great club in time with the chant. Before they passed out of range, Thorin and Bilbo could hear him shout as the song ended. “Find the stars! They can’t have gotten far! The trolls did a good job placing that boulder in their path – surely it will have slowed them down. Quickly now –“

Even after the goblins were out of earshot, Bilbo and Thorin remained still for a moment, listening intently for any rear scouts. After a minute had passed with no further events, Bilbo breathed out a sigh of relief. Thorin, however, had his brow scrunched in concern as he pondered whether his nephews had had the wisdom to remain out of sight and avoid capture.

Bilbo noticed this and reached up without a second thought to smooth the wrinkles. “Now, none of that. You can be grumpy later. I’m sure they’re fine! They may be a bit foolish at times, but I’m sure they can take to serious tasks. You’ll see. Fíli and Kíli will return to us in no time, you silly dwarf.”

Thorin leaned into Bilbo’s touch and began to sparkle faintly. “How is it we’ve only known each other a few days, yet you can read me as well as my sister can at times? You are probably right, but I can’t help but worry for them. It’s not safe, after all. Will we ever truly be safe?”

The twinkle across Thorin’s skin was easily seen in the dark, and Bilbo chuckled at its presence. “There you go shining again. And during the daytime, even. Why do you do that?”

Thorin chuckled, deep and low, and Bilbo could feel the reverberations as they stood huddled in the intimate space of their hidden nook. “Well, what do stars do?”

“Well, I suppose, they do just that.”

“That’s not all stars do, you know.”

“I know. You’re people, after all. Surely you don’t just sit still all day, glowing in the dark.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

Bilbo looked at him in puzzlement for a moment until Thorin solemnly placed a hand over his heart.

“You’re referring to your power to grant immortality, aren’t you?” Bilbo asked as he withdrew his hand from Thorin’s face and lowered it to his side.

“Indeed, I am. Are you not tempted by everlasting life? Here we are, alone, vulnerable. I have no space to draw Orcrist to defend myself, yet you…”

“Are you implying what I think you are?” Bilbo stepped back sharply. “Thorin, I’ve traveled with you for five days now. We’ve come to know each other a little, and I’m not about to just stab a friend and carve the heart of his chest!”

“Peace, Bilbo.” Thorin closed the distance between them and settled his hands on Bilbo’s shoulders. “I know you wouldn’t take _my_ heart, nor Fíli’s, nor Kíli’s, for that matter. But say it was just another random star. One whom you hadn’t met. Many mortals would kill, and likely have, for the chance to obtain eternal life.”

Bilbo shook his head. “I couldn’t do it. Taking another’s life just to live forever with their blood on my hands? No decent person with more than an ounce of morality would do that.”

Thorin pulled Bilbo close, wrapping him in his arms with a brief hug. “Thank Mahal such a decent being as yourself found me in that crater. You’ll still be true to your word, I trust? After this venture, you’ll fulfill your promise and send us home?”

Bilbo paused for a moment, then sighed sadly. “If that is what you wish, then that is what I will do, yes. Well, shall we be going?” He nodded out into the light beyond the crevice.

Thorin nodded briefly. “Let’s get to your Shire on time.”

The two emerged from the secluded corner and after looking both ways for remnant goblins, they resumed their journey up the mountain. After a time of uncomfortable silence, Thorin spoke. “Do you miss it?”

“Pardon?” Bilbo looked up at him in confusion.

“The Shire. Do you miss your home?”

“Of course I do. I miss my books, and my armchair, and my garden. I can’t wait to introduce you to Mother, either! I think first she’ll chastise you about bringing your dirty boots into Bag End, then she’ll invite you for tea, and she’ll find your story fascinating. Don’t you miss your home?”

“Naturally,” Thorin grunted.

“Well, at least we understand one another.” They walked a bit longer in more companionable silence.

“Is there any chance you would move away from Bag End?” Thorin’s voice was almost too quiet for Bilbo to distinguish the words.

Thorin’s voice was almost too quiet for Bilbo to distinguish the words, but when he heard them, Bilbo was a bit taken aback by his question. “Why ever would I want to do that?”

“Say you met someone. Someone special. Someone you wanted to spend your life with, but you knew that, in Hobbiton, you could not. Would you be able to break ties with your home and stay with him?”

Bilbo stopped and pondered for a bit. “Honestly, Thorin? I don’t know. Bag End… it’s… all I have left of Father. He built it for my mother, to be a comfortable home for the three of us. And it has been. I’ve lived nearly my whole life in Hobbiton. To leave suddenly would be… I can’t imagine it right now.”

“I see.” Thorin huffed as his glow abruptly ended and he began surging up the hill.

“Hey, wait a moment! Thorin, I-“ Bilbo had to jog to keep up with him. “Thorin, would you slow down?”

“We have no time to waste,” Thorin growled without turning back to Bilbo. “We have far yet to travel, and such talk only slows us down. You have a deadline to meet.”

“Hey, there you two are!” Fíli emerged from some rubble at the base of the cliff at the top of the pass, his brother following only two steps behind. “We were waiting for – Bilbo, what in Mahal’s name happened?”

Kíli watched his uncle storm past him without a word or inquiry about their scouting expedition, and looked to Bilbo in confusion. “I think you broke him. Or did the smell of that enormous goblin get to him?”

Bilbo shook his head. “It wasn’t the goblins. Honestly, I have no clue. He was fine, and then we were talking, and now he’s clearly upset by something, but for the earth beneath my toes, I can’t figure out why. And the stubborn oaf won’t tell me what so insulted him!” Bilbo threw up his arms in exasperation.

“Well, what were you talking about?” Kíli prompted.

“My home, mostly, at the end of our discussion. Then I said I couldn’t imagine leaving it for anybody, and then this!” he motioned at Thorin, who was by now some distance ahead of the other three.

Fíli and Kíli shared a knowing look. “Well, Bilbo. It’s not our place to break it to you,” Fíli said with a pat on the hobbit’s shoulder before jogging downhill. Kíli followed suit, leaving Bilbo more confused than ever.

‘Will I ever understand Blue Dwarves?’ Bilbo wondered as he trotted to keep up with the stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, these two, I swear! They're ALMOST done dancing around one another, but no, they just HAVE to be stubborn for a few more chapters!
> 
>  
> 
> I haven't been writing in a few weeks (this has been in beta land for a while, half a chapter done but I wanted to get at least this section to you guys instead of making you wait for the whole chapter). If you've been following my personal posts on Tumblr, you'll know I've been struggling with neurological problems for a while. Essentially, I started having these episodes like sudden and prolonged intense vertigo, numbness in my extremities, slowness of cognition, stuff like that, intermittently. MRI's found these jelly-bean sized spots in my brain that the radiologists worry is multiple sclerosis. I've been going through close testing and neurology appointments since then, and they still don't know what's going on with me. Clinically, the episodes are not as bad as MS, so the specialists don't think that's what's going on, but the spots are in a classic early MS position, and I'm the right age group for it to start presenting, and I have a family history of autoimmune disorders, so that's something that they'll continue to monitor.
> 
> But because of that (and probably also the stress and anxiety over someone as young as me having these kinds of problems), I haven't been able to write coherently, so I went on a little hiatus.
> 
> Things have been better for a few days, though, which makes me feel so much better (both physically and mentally), so I'll be getting back into writing drafts! (assuming this stuff doesn't relapse)
> 
> If I were to suddenly abandon this work, I'd let you guys know with an announcement, so if you don't hear from me, it's because I'm either busy working on the next bits or I've dropped off the face of the Earth. Feel free to pester me, though, if you're still worried!


	17. Tea and Cake, or Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warning: violence against a non-binary character

Captain Bofur Bullroarer stood at the bow of the Ered Luin and hummed softly as it lazily floated in lake just north of Orthanc. He had just returned from a brief visit with Saruman, having ensured that the white wizard’s demands for fresh lightning were being met in a timely manner. The last shipment he delivered to Bard should arrive at the tall, black tower in a few days’ time, and Bofur was already calculating the next shipment’s quota.

After a few more moments of deep thought, Bofur ceased his tune to lick a finger and hold it aloft. “Wind’s coming from the west…” he murmured. He turned around to examine the skyline formed by the distant ridge. The skies were clear this side of the Misty Mountains, and no storm lingered near Caradhras. It would be a quiet night for the crew.

“Everyone gather ‘round!” he called as he stepped back onto the main deck, rubbing his temples at the loudness of his own voice. He waited for Nori to fetch Bombur and Óin from deep within the belly of the ship, then gazed around to make a quick head count. “It appears that we will have a very calm evening – no lightning collection t’night!”

The crew let out a collective sigh of relief. “Well, that is fair news,” replied Glóin. “Dori and I can work on repairing the joints of the gathering apparatus.”

Bofur smiled broadly at the two dwarves. “Aye, I was hopin’ yeh’d volunteer to do that. Excellent thinking! I like yer initiative. Now, the rest of yeh, this isn’t to be treated as a grant for shore leave. We’ve a job yet in catchin’ Prince Blacklock, and he’s a very formidable opponent for any of yeh. Don’t roll yer eyes at me, Dwalin. Even ye’ve got to be on yer guard with that one. So, I’d like yeh to lead the rest of the bunch in a trainin’ session before we lift off.”

“Aye, Captain,” Dwalin grumbled before moving off to set up various wooden dummies and targets.

Bofur smiled around at the remainder of the crew, and bounced on his toes. “Right then. Off yeh go! Nori, I’m putting yeh in charge for a while. I’ve got a bit of a headache from bein’ with Old Whitebeard, and I’m retirin’ for the afternoon. I’m not to be disturbed, unless absolutely necessary.” He began to walk toward his cabin.

Nori nodded. “Sure thing. Oh, and Captain?”

Bofur paused and turned around to face his first mate. “Hm?”

Nori smirked with a glitter in his eyes. “Do try not to spill anything on the rug this time.”

“Not to worry, not to worry!” Bofur returned to his course. “I won’t be doin’ any jigs today!”

As the captain disappeared into his quarters, Nori moved to the starboard railing. Something out of the corner of his eye had grabbed his attention, and he gazed out to the horizon. A large dust cloud hovered to the west. After a few minutes of watching it, suspicion etched itself into every line of his face. “Something’s coming…” he mumbled. “Something fast.”

“What’s that you’re mumbling about, you rascally devil?” Dwalin asked as he pulled some spare weapons from a trapdoor which lead to the Ered Luin’s small armory.

Nori pointed out to the slowly moving haze. “I think we should be prepared for company.”

Dwalin followed his gaze and nodded at Nori’s conclusion. “Aye…you could be on to something. Looks to be a dozen or so horsemen. Nobody rides up to the tower that fast, except on consultation, and the white wizard doesn’t have any enemies brave enough to assault his tower with so small a force.”

“Kháris knew about our stars back in Laketown,” Nori pointed out. “I wouldn’t put it past the Dark Prince to hunt them down once he heard of them. Seeing as we were the last ones known to have had them, I suspect that’s him coming to claim them.”

Dwalin shifted his weight onto one foot. “Perhaps you’re right. I’ll go alert the crew.”

Nori frowned at the horizon. “No, not just yet. This could be something, or it could be nothing. They’re already in a good location to defend the ship if it comes down to that. Just advise them to be alert to their surroundings." 

 

 

Dust filled the air as Prince Hadudul Blacklock and his company galloped down the road leading to Orthanc. Tall conifers and oaks flew by on either side, old growth trees that lined the furthest reaches of Fangorn Forest. Rumor had it that the skyship Ered Luin had docked in a lake nearby, and the prince relished the chance to finally get his hands around the stone that had thus far eluded him. And if it came with not one, but three stars, then that was a bonus.

Hadudul yanked his pony to a halt as it neared the final bend in the road leading down to the small lake, holding steady as it reared in response. The company behind him slowed and fell into a protective formation around their single cart as it caught up.

Hadudul addressed his henchmen when they had all come to a rest in earshot. “I want ten of you to accompany me to the Ered Luin, should they resist in transferring the Blue Dwarves into our custody.” Captain Bullroarer’s got a mighty reputation for no nonsense regarding his cargo, and it’s possible he’s working to deliver the stars to some other party. In which case, he may need a little… persuading.” He grinned wickedly as he fingered the hilt of his obsidian dagger.

A few of his soldiers snickered darkly. “Well, what are we waiting for?” asked one with a jagged scar leading from his brow down the side of his face. “I say we jump them now and be done with it!”

Hadudul pursed his lips. “For one thing, I haven’t finished giving my orders yet. Have you not heard what happens to those who interrupt me?”

“Y-yes, my lord. I meant no offense.”

“If it happens again, I’ll be adding your tongue to my collection,” Hadudul purred calmly. “Am I clear?”

The scar-faced dwarf gulped as all color drained from his face. “Clear as purest quartz, my lord.”

“Very good. Now, as I was about to say, the remainder of you will stay behind to guard our belongings and prepare the cart for our return. If we manage to capture the fabled Blue Dwarves, I shall need it emptied and ready to receive them for the journey home.”

“My lord!” called a musical alto voice from aloft in the branches.

“Ah, Kháris,” Hadadul greeted his spymaster as she lithely dropped out of a nearby spruce. “I trust your scouting was successful. What circumstances await us?”

“The Ered Luin floats at the edge of the lake, and they’ve yet to pull the gangplank back up. We should easily be able to board without a problem. Captain Bullroarer just retired for the remainder of the day after returning from the black tower. The entire crew is topside. The rogue Nori is in plain sight guarding the captain’s quarters – I should have no problem neutralizing him at the start of our assault. His chief of security has been patrolling the outer railings. I suspect he may have sensed our arrival. That dust cloud isn’t exactly subtle.”

“No, indeed it is not. But with this clear lack of rain, it couldn’t be helped. Unless you know any wizards who can draw moisture up into the dirt. What of the rest of them?”

“The remainder of the crew is occupied in weapons drills.”

Hadudul hummed. “Meaning essentially everyone is already armed and ready, should anything unexpected happen. We will need to be fast. Dwalin could prove to be problematic. He used to be on the city guard in Erebor, and as a seasoned warrior he is very effective and efficient in a fight. If I’m to get to Bullroarer at all, I’ll need you to drop him as well while the rest of my soldiers occupy the crew.

Kháris bowed low and climbed back up the spruce to once again sneak closer to the ship.

Hadudul turned to address his soldiers. “Those of you who are coming with me, listen up! We will wait for Kháris to fire her darts at her two targets. Their falls will be our signal. As soon as they drop, we will run aboard and you all will quickly overtake the rest of the crew while I go directly to the captain’s quarters. Am I understood?”

“Yes, sir!” shouted ten of his soldiers.

“Good. The rest of you, being your tasks immediately. Move out!”

 

 

Bofur sighed and pat down the pockets of his coat as the door behind him closed. His head was beginning to throb terribly, so he moved to his stash of herbs. “Camomile… dried lemon… mint… bergamot… ah ha! There yeh are, ginger root,” he mumbled as he fingered through the different parcels. “A nice lemon-ginger blend is just what I need!”

Bofur continued humming as he collected his kettle from a drawer in his desk and poured some water into it. In half a jiffy, he had a merry blaze crackling in his own personal fire pit. A dark, iron rod crossed over it with a hook in the center, and it was from this hook that he hung the kettle to boil.

Satisfied with this bit of work, Bofur nodded once, then strutted over to his deep closet. Once there, he undid the brass buckle at his waist, letting his heavy belt fall to the floor. Then he shrugged out of his coat, which he hung up neatly by the closet’s entrance, and stepped out of his boots, which he lay neatly by the door. “Now then,” he mumbled as he moved deep into the small room, “what shall be my color for the day…”

Bypassing all his dwarven garments, Bofur made a beeline straight to his section of hobbitish clothing. With pursed lips, he browsed through his selection of waistcoats and trousers, and shook his head. ‘Nah, I think I’m feeling the petticoats today,’ he thought as he gently pushed them aside to allow room for the array of skirts and bodices to spread out. ‘So, the decision remains…mauve? Or saffron, perhaps? Ooh, that’d be lovely with my sky blue shawl.’

No sooner had he stepped into the ruffled, flowing garments and cinched the ties snugly closed than he heard the telltale whistle of steam emerging from the kettle. “Ah! That would be the tea!” He quickly undid his braids, letting his hair loose in waves that settled around his shoulders. They weren’t ringlets, as they should be for a decent hobbit lass, but it would have to do. With a skip in his step, Bofur dashed out of his closet to fetch the singing kettle from the fire and placed it on his desk to add the herbs and let his tea steep.

 

 

The dark prince and his posse slunk through the trees near the edge of the lake. The group wasn’t exactly silent, armor clinking in tinny spats with every movement and not caring about the snaps of twigs underfoot. Hadadul held up a hand when the trees thinned enough for him to see the Ered Luin looming ahead.

‘Good… it seems the trees and undergrowth muffled our advance enough,’ Hadudul thought as he watched Dwalin continue to pace around the edge of the deck. A small pinecone fell behind him, and he casually looked up. Kháris was in position above with her two loaded hand crossbows and awaited his command to start the attack.

“Draw swords,” Hadudul whispered over his shoulder as he held up one hand to shoulder height. “Get ready to advance.”

As soon as he flicked his fingers forward, Kháris fired at her two targets. With faint wooshes, the small bolts flew and found their marks in Nori’s and Dwalin’s necks. With grunts of surprise, the two dwarves pulled the offending darts out, but already their vision was started to blur and darken.

Nori just barely had time to reach into his pocket for a vial, but no sooner had his fingers closed around it and pulled it out than his consciousness failed and he slumped backwards and slid down the wall.

Dwalin, on the other hand, was hardly able to grunt a warning before he dropped heavily onto the wooden floor.

By the time Hadudul and his men charged up the gangplank and onto the Ered Luin, the rest of the crew had scrambled into a vague formation. Hadudul allowed his soldiers to run ahead of him while he hung back. As he made it up onto the deck, he saw his soldiers had formed an effective barricade between the door to Captain Bullroarer’s cabin and the rest of his crew. He smiled at the turmoil around him as he casually moved to the center of the rear wall.

As he neared Nori’s resting place, he crouched down to examine Kháris’s work. He could still see the ginger dwarf’s breathing, but time was of the essence. The poison should take its toll soon, if Kháris had done her job properly. Nonetheless, that twinkle of glass between his fingers would likely be some form of antidote. He couldn’t risk somebody finding it on their fallen comrade and reviving him, should the crew win the fight. He nudged Nori’s hand open with the toe of his boot and kicked the vial overboard before opening the doorway and sliding into Bofur’s cabin.

 

 

Bofur sighed in delight as he set his cup to his saucer and adjusted the shawl that had started to slip from its elegant perch at his elbows. “Ah yes. The ginger was a lovely idea. And perfectly brewed, if I may say so meself!” He giggled as he felt his headache lessening a smidge. Then he frowned at the sounds of combat drifting in under his doorway. “Hm. Dwalin must be workin’ the crew hard today. I hope he doesn’t tire the lads out,” he murmured. “Poor Ori won’t be able to climb up the mast to his vantage point when we lift off!” As he returned his attention to his tea for another sip, the handle of his cabin door began to jiggle and light pooled in the entrance as the doorway opened.

Bofur closed his eyes and sighed with exasperation. “Nori, I thought I told you, no disturbances!” But when he opened them again a second later, it wasn’t his first mate’s countenance that greeted him, it was none other than Prince Hadudul Blacklock, standing with mouth agape in shock at the scene before him. “Oh! Ah…well…would yeh like a cup of tea? It’s lemon ginger, and I have some honey that yeh can-"

“What, by Mahal’s bloody beard is going on in here?!” Hadudul stepped forward and pulled the door shut behind him, advancing toward the captain’s desk.

“If yeh must know, I had just sat down before yeh _so rudely_ barged in here! I mean, where are yer manners!” Bofur humphed and set his cup down with a musical _clink!_ “I know ye’re a dwarf too, but for cryin’ out loud, even dwarves have a smatterin’ of basic decency!” Bofur leaned forward petulantly and pushed his chair away from the desk to stand up in a huff. “Now, will you kindly leave and I’ll deal with yeh in a few moments!”

Hadudul’s puzzled gawking became a grimace of disgust as he realized the captain was barefoot and clad in what appeared to be a light, frilly gown complete with… petticoats? “What manner of creature are you supposed to be? I heard Captain Bullroarer was a fearsome Dwarf, but this… I come here to bargain only to find you masquerading as a female halfling! You are a disgrace to the kingdom of Erebor, and I shall gladly purge your backwards existence from its history!” With a roar, the prince drew his long, obsidian dagger from its hilt, and it glittered in the firelight as he advanced toward Bofur.

Bofur took a sharp intake of breath as he reached down and realized that of _course_ his mattock was not at his desk – who takes tea with weapons at the table? No decent folk, to be sure! Thinking quickly, he dashed to the fire and flicked some ashes up towards his assailant’s eyes.

Hadudul winced as the charred remnants and glowing embers flew into his face and he growled as he wiped the back of his left hand across his eyes. Once they were clear enough, he reopened them and saw Bofur running toward the chest in the back of his cabin. “That was a cheap trick!” he shouted as he ran forward once more in pursuit.

‘Nearly there, Bofur, old lad, just three more steps and…damn it all!’ Bofur tripped on his skirt and skidded forward, hitting his shoulder against his weapons’ chest. He sat up quickly and shook his head to clear the daze out, then flipped the lid up.

Before Bofur could fully grasp the handle of one of his hammers, though, Hadudul pounced and grabbed hold of Bofur’s shoulders to roll him out of reach. As the captain struggled to wriggle out of the grapple, Hadudul brought his dagger up and struck its hilt solidly against Bofur’s forehead to daze him. “I should just kill you now, race traitor, but first I need to shame you.”

Bofur groaned, barely registering the words.

Hadudul grinned malevolently as he twirled the black dagger in his right hand. “So… you fancy yourself the captain of the notorious band aboard the Ered Luin, and yet… you clearly harbor wild fantasies about the folk across the Wall from us. Very well, then, I shall grant you your deepest wish. You do know that the Halfling women are clean shaven, yes?

Bofur’s senses returned then. “You wouldn’t dare!”

“I would,” Hadudul’s wicked smile broadened. “Unless… you tell me where the Blue Dwarves and the Arkenstone have gone.”

Bofur gritted his teeth and snarled, “I will _never_ betray them to the likes of you!”

Hadudul hummed in mock mourning. “Ah, well. Such a pity. You won’t be needing this, then.”

Bofur felt the cold, sharp edge of the obsidian dagger touch his bearded cheeks and gasped as he felt what used to be a decent beard be shorn from his chin. With a roar, he swung his fist hard and almost cheered when he felt it connect solidly with the side of Hadudul’s head. He winced as the obsidian dagger bit into the skin on the left side of his jaw, but it was a small price to pay as the prince fell sideways, allowing Bofur a few precious second to clamber up and sprint to the fire to retrieve the poker.

“So, the imposter still has some fight, does he?” Hadudul growled as he leapt to his feet and stalked maliciously forward. “I wasn’t _finished_ with my handiwork yet, but clearly you thirst for more of your blood to be spilled!” He raised the obsidian dagger, poised to throw it with deadly accuracy.

But he was interrupted as Dori, Glóin, and Bifur charged into Bofur’s cabin. Hadudul’s rage turned to panic as he quickly looked about him for an exit.   The large bay windows to his left appeared to be his only escape. Abandoning his fight, he fled and leaped, shoulder first, through the glass and dove into the lake.

Bofur sighed in relief as the adrenaline from the fight fled from his veins and his knees weakened. He dropped the poker and let himself fall in a crouch.

“Captain!” Dori stepped forward, kneeling down and placing a hand on Bofur’s back as Bifur and Glóin ran to the ruined window to lean outward and search for the dark prince. “Captain Bullroarer, are you all right?”

Bofur sniffled and buried his face in his hands. “How can yeh still call me that? After this discovery… how can yeh still be concerned fer my well being? Blacklock is right… I’m nothin’ but a sham.”

Dori tutted. “No, never a sham. I may be a bit surprised at seeing you in a dress of all things, but to each his own. We all have our secret pleasures. And you’re not a sham. You’re still our captain, aren’t you?”

Bofur’s shoulders shook with barely contained sobs, but he nodded. “Aye, that I am.”

“You may fancy yourself a hobbit at times,” Glóin added, “but you’ve proven yourself time and again. You’re as loyal to us as we are to you. You have the heart of a dwarf, but the spirit of a hobbit, you know.”

Bofur chuckled wetly and turned around, eyes watering. “Yeh really think so? Ye’re not ashamed to be associated with me?”

Dori’s expression darkened as he saw the choppy remains of Bofur’s beard. “Now this simply won’t do,” he muttered.

Bofur sobbed openly now. “I knew it! Yeh think I’m a disgustin’ wretch, and –“

“Oh, stop it!” Dori lightly swatted his captain’s shoulders. “It’s not you, it’s this soddy patchwork job that hooligan made of your chin! Hm… with a bit of cleaning up, this new look may actually suit you. Just need to clean it up into a nice goatee, is all! And you still have that fabulous mustache!”

Bofur nodded and stood up to sit in his armchair by what used to be the window. “I suppose ye’re right. Thank you, Dori. For bein’ so acceptin’ of my eccentricity.”

“Speaking of which,” Glóin interjected, “Dori. Pay up.”

Bofur watched in confusion as Dori muttered under his breath and pulled a small purse off his belt, which he threw toward Glóin. “What’s that all about?”

“Oh, it’s nothing really. We just placed a few wagers on what it was you actually did in here by yourself. Glóin had it right all along. Here I thought you drank fine wine while crooning over trashy romance novels, or something of that nature.”

Bofur turned to Glóin with a confused expression. “Wait a moment. How did yeh figure my secret out? Was I really that obvious?”

Glóin snorted. “Not at all! I’m the keeper of the accounts on this ship. Do you really think a few dresses coming aboard but not making their way onto the cargo inventory list in Ori’s logbook would escape my notice?”

Bofur smiled slightly. “No, I suppose they wouldn’t. Unsettlin’ as it may be, yer diligence is reassurin’.”

Glóin smiled at the compliment. “Aye, well Bifur here thought yeh were busy crocheting doilies.”

“There’s nothing wrong with doilies…” Dori muttered darkly under his breath.

Ori slipped quietly through the cabin’s doorway, pouting slightly. “I heard coins jingle. So… you aren’t raising adorable furballs? I was really hoping to ask if I could keep one of the kittens…”

Bofur laughed heartily at that. “No, Ori, I haven’t been nursin’ a litter of kittens. But if yeh really want a cat, I’m sure we can find one at our next port. Be nice if it could keep the mice out of Bombur’s storage space! And unless Óin gets the sniffles from it, I’m sure it’ll help with our morale, too. The crew could always use some… oh! My crew!” He sat forward suddenly and grabbed Dori’s forearm. “Dwalin and Nori! Usually they’d be the first ones in here! They haven’t… they’re not… “

Dori shook his head. “They didn’t die, no.”

Bofur sighed in relief.

“However,” Dori continued, “they did fall at the start of the battle, and they seem to have been poisoned. I don’t know if Óin will be able to revive them without an antidote.”

Bofur groaned and buried his head in his hands once more. “When will this nightmare end?”

“Perhaps I can be of assistance?” Kháris climbed in through the cabin’s open windowframe. Bifur’s spear tip was instantly poised at her throat and she threw her hands up. “Yes, you’ve got me. Consider me captured. But your officers won’t last much longer without this.” She slowly reached into her pocket and pulled out a deep purple vial.

“What’s that, more poison?” Glóin inquired suspiciously as he eyed the object she held.

“No, it’s an antidote,” Kháris replied. “Look. You can use it or not. If I’m right, and it helps them, they will revive and be united once more with their captain and their brothers. If I’m lying, they will die, which they will soon anyways.”

Bofur considered her words for a moment, then signaled for Bifur to stand down. Kháris tossed the vial toward Glóin, who caught it and sprinted out onto the deck. “And what happens now?”

Kháris crossed her arms and leaned casually against the window’s siding. “I’ve just betrayed my lord, Prince Blacklock. As such, I’m now at the top of his hit list. He’s escaped with his life, and once he alert his network, I’ll be a sitting duck. I suppose my next move would be to search for my sister, Dháris, whom he has held captive for blackmail. Though I fear he may make her a corpse long before I can locate her.”

“I can help a little with that.” Bofur turned at the familiar voice. Nori stood in the doorway, rubbing the back of his neck. “Dwalin’s a bit slower to come back around, Captain, but he’ll be all right.” As Bofur visibly relaxed, his eyes flicked toward the window. “Kháris, you can use my network. I have a few informants in Old Dale that may be able to give you some information about Dháris. I suspected as much when last we met and sent out an appeal on her whereabouts.”

“Will you come with me?” Kháris requested. “They will know me as Blacklock’s spymaster and be reluctant to trust me with their tips.”

Nori shook his head and reached into his pocket to retrieve a puzzle box. “Dháris is a fine lass, to be sure, but I’m needed here, with my captain and crew.” With a few deft flicks of his fingers, the box opened. “Take this – it’s my signet ring. My informants know only I know the secrets of getting it out of here, and the box is rigged to destroy the side engravings should it be tampered with. Therefore, the only way for you to come by it intact is if I willingly give it to you. Show it to them, and they’ll know I trust you enough to give you the answers you seek.”

Kháris took the ring from Nori and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you, old friend. Now then, I must depart if I am to succeed in this quest. Farewell.” Without another word, she glided to the window and leapt gracefully down into the water below.

“Well then,” Bofur poured himself another cup of tea. His headache was returning more fiercely than before. “I believe my nerves have had enough rattlin’ today.”

Nori took in Bofur’s state and shook his head with a fond smile. “When I told you not to mess up the carpeting again, I didn’t mean for you to ruin yourself in its place, you know.”

Bofur chuckled as Bifur retrieved his hat from inside the closet and placed it firmly in its home upon his head. “Oh, I understand, it’s just…yeh know how trouble works. Yeh can never be fully prepared for it.”

Dori and Nori let him finish his drink, then helped him up out of the armchair. “Come on, Captain,” Nori said with a soft voice. “Let’s go get you cleaned up.”


	18. Riddles in the Mountains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! Sorry for the wait. I've started working full time at the lab, so I have much less free time now. That and my ghivashel will be moving to my city!! We've been long distance for 5 YEARS, and we're excitedly planning the move. Anyways, enough excuses! I hope y'all like this chapter as much as I do :)

It was midday, and the sun beat down harshly through the thin air as Bilbo, Fíli, and Kíli jogged up the slope of the steep mountain pass. They had nearly reached the peak, which Bilbo was grateful for, since running downhill would certainly be much easier and his little legs would carry him that much faster to Hobbiton. Though it had been some time since their last discussion, Thorin was still some fifteen paces ahead. Bilbo shouted up to him, “Confound it, Thorin! Would you just wait a moment and - "

“No, we can’t just ‘wait a moment,’” Thorin grunted over his shoulder, slowing his march ever so slightly. “As I said before, _you_ have a deadline to meet and _we_ have our own homes to return to! Are you or are you not required to return with your, your…”

“My what, exactly?” Bilbo caught up with Thorin and tugged his shoulder around to make eye contact.

“Your _prizes_. Because that’s what we are to you, aren’t we?” Thorin spat out the words with a tone filled with venom.

Bilbo blinked. “Thorin… I... that’s not true!”

“Isn’t it?” Thorin spat. “You’ll parade us over the wall and into your Shire, show us off to preserve your public face, and then send us off into the celestial sphere, just so you can return to your happy, sheltered, little life in your hole in the ground, never to think of me again.”

Bilbo sighed and looked down at his toes. “That may have been the case when we first met,” Bilbo raised his chin to make eye contact, “but now that we’ve all become friends, I won’t just send you off-“

Thorin narrowed his eyes. “So, you’re going back on your words now? You honorless halfl-“

“Would you stop interrupting me and twisting my words before the full meaning is clear?!” Bilbo placed his hands on his hips and began tapping his foot. “Confound it, Thorin! If you would have waited for me to finish, I was about to say I won’t just send the three of you off without feeling or without cherishing the memories we’ve made together these past few days. I’ve grown quite fond of my Blue Dwarves, and if there were a way to stay in contact with you, I would, but unless you know of some way to communicate with us land dwellers, then I’m afraid the memories are all I’ll have!”

Thorin’s expression softened and he placed a hand on Bilbo’s shoulder. “Peace, Bilbo. I spoke quickly in my anger. I was wrong to judge you so swiftly.”

Kíli leaned sideways to rest his shoulder against Fíli’s. “Did Uncle just admit he was wrong?” he whispered.

“I think so,”Fíli replied.

Bilbo felt a slight rumble beneath his toes, and stretched up on them to peer over Thorin’s shoulder. Seeing nothing, he turned his neck to glance back down the mountain pass.

Thorin’s eyebrows narrowed in confusion as Fíli and Kíli too began to look around. “Bilbo, what-“

“I think it would be best if we all got off the road now,” Bilbo murmured, jerking his head over toward some boulders off to the side.

The rumbling increased and the three stars could now feel it through their boots as well. Bilbo shuffled into hiding as Thorin grabbed the back of Fíli and Kíli’s cloaks and pulled them aside. Not half a moment later, a pair of horses pulled a brightly colored wagon into view. The driver, who was the scrawniest fellow Bilbo had ever seen, yanked back on the reigns, bringing the horses to a stop and turned toward the boulders, his bulbous eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“What is it, precious? Why did you stop us? _Gollum! Gollum!_ ” he coughed out.

“Who is he talking to?” Fíli whispered.

“I’ve no idea,” Bilbo shifted to get a better view

“We thought we saw something, yeeessssss” the creature hissed. “Let’s go down and follow it!” Without another word, Gollum crouched down and dropped onto all fours beside his wagon. As he fell, something small and shiny detached itself from his person and bounced away, pinging metallically with every strike upon the path.

Bilbo watched the item curiously until it came to a rest a short way down the road. His gaze lingered upon it before he realized he’d better watch the strange creature again. However, Gollum had slunk out of sight and Bilbo shifted uncomfortably as he looked around in confusion. “Where did he… not over there… did… did any of you follow him?”

“I lost sight of him behind that wall, there.” Thorin whispered. “Fíli, Kíli. You’ve got a better line of sight. Can you see him?”

“No,” replied Fíli and Kíli simultaneously.

Thorin cursed under his breath. After a moment’s thought, he tapped Bilbo’s shoulder. “You’re stealthier than we are. You should go out and investigate,” Thorin nudged Bilbo out past the side of the boulders.

  
“What?! Me?” Bilbo began to protest.

“Just go check it out!” Thorin lightly pushed Bilbo’s back.

Bilbo glanced around warily as he crept first toward the fallen object. It was a small band of simple, plain gold, glittering in the afternoon light. ‘What a lovely ring,’ he thought as he picked it up. He turned it briefly in his fingers, admiring the smooth metal. He couldn’t quite place it, but something about it seemed to call out to him. Shrugging as he heard the three stars hissing at him to move closer to the bend in the rock wall, he pocketed the ring and crept onward.

As he passed a crumbling overhang, some pebbles rained down beside him and he heard breathing that could only be described as a malicious purr overhead. “Bless us, and splash us, precious. We did find a tasty snack!” Bilbo looked up with alarm just as Gollum dropped on him, locking him in a grapple and sending the two rolling down the mountain pass.

“BILBO!” Thorin shouted he charged to his companion’s aid, followed shortly by Fíli and Kíli. He reached Bilbo and Gollum just as the pair stopped and Gollum attempted to catch Bilbo in a chokehold. He made to slam into Gollum from the side, only to be halted by an invisible force and bounce backwards into his nephews. Frustrated and confused, he leapt forward again, flanked by the binaries. They swung their fists at Gollum, only to have each blow deflected by the same invisible force. Panting, they ceased the tirade.

“What dark magic is this?” Fíli growled.

“Why can’t we reach him?!” Kíli glared at Gollum with an angry pout.

Thorin’s eyebrows knit together as his expression darkened. “I know not what manner of sorcery this creature possesses, but it appears we must trust Bilbo to defend himself against this foe.”

Bilbo had avoided Gollum’s attempts at strangling him long enough to pull out his dagger from its sheath and tapped it against Gollum’s chest.

Gollum looked down at the pale knife, glittering in the afternoon sunlight, and gasped. Pulling away from Bilbo and creeping backwards, he glared at the offending object. “It has an Elvish blade, but it’s not an Elf, no… not a man, or a dwarf, either… what _is_ it, precious? _What is it_?”

“I’m a Baggins, of the Shire,” Bilbo answered, rising to his feet and moving forward to back Gollum into the wall of the ravine. Bilbo caught Thorin’s eye and nodded over towards the wagon.

“Bagginses?” Gollum eyes Bilbo with confusion. “What’s Bagginses, precious?”

Thorin stared at Gollum in confusion as he moved right between Fíli and Kíli without seeming to notice either of them.

“Go get into the wagon,” Bilbo mouthed soundlessly. Nodding, the three Blue Dwarves ran to the vehicle and cautiously approached the side door. The horses, it seemed, had no trouble detecting them, and whickered in a friendly manner as the stars approached them. Bilbo looked over his shoulder to ensure the three entered it safely.

Gollum seized the opportunity in Bilbo’s brief moment of distraction to slink out of the path of Bilbo’s dagger and creep closer. “We’ve never had Baggins meat before. Is it… tender? Is it juicy?” He reached forward to tweak Bilbo’s chubby stomach.

“Ah, ah!” Bilbo skipped back a step, sweeping his blade out to the side. “Back, stay back!”

“Oooooooh,” Gollum pouted. “We were just hoping for a nice morsel on the way to Bree, _Gollum!_ ”

“Bree? You’re going to Bree?” Bilbo remembered seeing the town not terribly far from the Wall on one of Balin’s maps aboard the Ered Luin.

“That’s what we said.”

Gollum’s demeanor instantly changed before Bilbo’s eyes. “Don’t tell it that, _Gollum! Gollum!_ Didn’t we tell you not to speak with the food?”

“Yes, yes we did, precious, but we’re curious about the Bagginses! Can’t we at least play with it a little before we eats it?”

“No! Shut up!” Gollum growled to himself.

“Um, excuse me?” Bilbo lowered his sword a little and leaned forward curiously.

“We wasn’t talking to you! _Gollum!_ ” the creature turned around and began to climb straight up the face of the rock wall, his strong fingers and toes finding the smallest of holds, before settling petulantly on a ledge a little higher up than twice Bilbo’s height.

“Well, I’d like to speak to the other one. I want to play. Do you like riddles?”

Gollum turned around, eyes wide and bright with excitement. “A game?!” he squealed. “Yes, _yes!_ Let’s have a game of riddles with the Bagginses! If the Bagginses wins, we takes it to Bree.”

He turned to face the rock wall, and his voice lowered to a menancing grumble. “And if it loses, precious? What then?”

“Hm…” Gollum narrowed his eyes and pinched his nose. “If the Bagginses wins… we eats it!” He cackled maniacally as he turned his attention back to Bilbo. “If the Bagginses wins, we eats it whole!” he said with delight as he shrugged and smiled down at the hobbit.

Bilbo opened his mouth, then closed it with a click. His expression grew concerned momentarily before he nodded shortly. “All right. Fair enough.”

Gollum slapped the rock between his feet with delight, then he fixed Bilbo with a bright gaze. “What can run but never walks, has a mouth but never talks, has a head but never weeps, has a bed but never sleeps?” As he finished, he tilted his head expectantly to the side, awaiting Bilbo’s response.

‘Well, he may seem uncouth, but at least the fellow has a decent rhyme,’ Bilbo thought before answering. “That’s easy,” he said aloud. “A river.”

Gollum giggled for a moment. “Yes, yes, it’s right, of course it is. Ask us another one.”

Bilbo nodded and lowered his sword a little more. “I move, I step, as silent as snow. I grow, I flick, from lit candle wick. I leap, I bound, yet don’t leave the ground. I pass, I go, with someone I know.”

Gollum growled and turned around. “Step… snow… candle... leap… it’s tricksy, the Bagginses is, _gollum!_ ”

“Are you stuck, then?” Bilbo asked, rocking his feet from toes to heels, and feeling rather pleased with himself.

“Give us a chance, precious! _Tch_! Nnnnnnrghhh!” Gollum scrunched his eyes tight and pulled on the few lank hairs he had left. As he did so, the dark motions his actions cast on the stone below his feet caught his attention, and with a glint of insight, he triumphantly turned back to Bilbo. “Our shadow! Though ours does leave the ground to climb in caverns with us.”

Bilbo’s confidence shrank as Gollum fixed him with a toothy grin before climbing up and out of sight. His voice echoed through the mountain pass, making it impossible for Bilbo to pinpoint where the sound came from. “White flesh above and brown gills below. Never moving an inch, and in darkness it grows.”

Bilbo backed into the open space between the cliffs and the wagon, turning this way and that, his blade held aloft as he puzzled this next riddle. ‘Of course it would have something to with flesh and darkness…’ he thought with despair.

“Is it juicy?” came Gollum’s sing-song voice. “Is it scruuumptious?”

“Half a moment!” Bilbo called back. “I gave you a good long while. I don’t-“ Then the answer came to Bilbo and he chuckled. ‘Every hobbit ought to know the answer to this one!’ he thought as he remembered his favorite snack.

“Is it _tender_?!” Bilbo felt Gollum’s hands beginning to close on his shoulders. The creature had climbed down at some point and snuck up behind him.

“Ah, ah! Mushrooms! The answer,” Bilbo threw off Gollum’s arms and poked him in the ribs with the tip of his dagger, “is mushrooms.”

Gollum stuck out his bottom lip petulantly and he flopped sideways onto the ground. “We thought we stumped it… it’s clever, it is… ” he pouted.

Gollum sat up and patted his own shoulder as his voice took on the malevolent tone again. “We know, precious. _Gollum!_ We’ll make the Bagginses our dinner, yet. But first it must ask us a question.” He turned to glare ice daggers at Bilbo. “Well?”

Bilbo cleared his throat and thought.

“ _Ask us!_ ” Gollum snarled, spittle flying.

Bilbo nodded, and placed his hand in his coat pocket. He stroked the ring that lay hidden within as he slowly pondered out loud, “What… have I got… in my pocket?”

Gollum glared in puzzlement. “What? Not fair! It has to be riddle! Yeeeessssss.”

Bilbo pulled his hand from his pocket and pointed it at Gollum. “You didn’t say a riddle, that time, you said ‘ask us a question.’ Well, this is my question. Answer it, or take me to Bree.”

Gollum narrowed his eyes and gritted his few, pointy teeth. “We’ll answer your question, tricksy Bagginses, but you must give us three guesses!”

Bilbo nodded. “Fair enough. Guess away!”

Gollum spun on the balls of his feet and hopped in his stopped crouch for a short distance, then turned back to Bilbo. “Handses!” he held up his own and waved them in demonstration.

“Wrong!” Bilbo had both of his on his little blade in case the unstable little fellow turned on him.

“Oh, _shut up_!” Gollum yelled at himself. “You always ask the stupidest guesses, _gollum, gollum!_ It’s our turn…”

“String!” Gollum interrupted himself.

He turned around the other way, settling into a lower crouch, and snarled out “Or nothing.”

“Two answers at once!” Bilbo sang out, then cleared his throat. “And both were wrong. You’ve lost!” Bilbo grinned smugly at his victory.

“Noooo….” Gollum moaned as he collapsed onto his side and writhed on the ground, overwhelmed by his sense of loss.

Bilbo moved to him and tapped him with a toe. “Now, you must honor our agreement. Take me to Bree.”

Gollum sat up and pointed at Bilbo. “First it must tell us. What does it have in its pocketses? We must know!”

Bilbo gulped and fingered the ring in his pocket. “That’s none of your business.”

“Not our business, is it, precious?” Gollum smirked darkly and dangerously and stood up, eying Bilbo with a predator’s grace. His hand went to a little pouch on the side of his loincloth. “We’ll see if it’s not our…” His expression faltered. “Where is it? _Where is it?!_ ” He looked frantically to either side and crouched to the ground, crawling around in a desperate search for something.

Bilbo followed Gollum’s movements warily, creating more space between him and the creature. “What is it? What have you lost?”

“Mustn’t ask us, not its business!” Gollum whined mournfully. “What has it got in its pocketses?” Gollum took a sharp intake of breath and turned slowly to gaze at Bilbo incredulously. “ _What has it got in its pocketses_?” he whispered.

“I don’t…” Bilbo took another step backward, hands shaking as Gollum’s hand slowly moved toward a sharp rock.

“He stole it from us…our precious. _Thief!_ ” Gollum’s disbelief turned to white rage as he snarled and threw the rock at Bilbo’s head.

Bilbo dodged it, but lost his footing and started to fall backwards down the slope. Up went the ring, flying out of his coat, seemingly of its own accord, and as Bilbo reached up to catch it, it slid upon his middle finger. “This is it… my life ends here and now,” Bilbo thought as his back hit the ground and Gollum snarled and pounced toward him. But to his utmost surprise, Gollum landed not on him, but about three feet away, and looked around energetically, moving not just his head, but his entire little body.

“Where is it? Where is the nasssssty little Bagginses? _Gollum!_ ” he yelled as he turned about, gangly limbs flailing in every direction as if fishing through the air.

‘He can’t see me!’ Bilbo realized, and he slowly stood up. ‘Perhaps I can trick him yet again and get him to take me to Bree anyways!’ He snuck toward the wagon as Gollum continued his desperate search in the opposite direction. He grabbed a rock on the way and climbed up the side to cling to the sill beneath the window. Once he had a secure hold, he threw the rock up the slope to the front.

“ _Bagginses!_ ” Gollum screeched as he heard it hit the ground and echo down the pass. “Thief! Curse it and break it, we hates it forever!!!” He leapt up onto his perch on the driving box and whipped the horses into a full run.

The wagon lurched and Bilbo nearly fell off, but with a might pull, he hauled himself up and through the window, knocking over a small terra cotta vase as he did so.

 

 

Kíli, followed closely by Fíli, preceded their uncle into Gollum’s wagon. Once fully inside, Kíli found himself being pulled forward and jerked into a headlock with a hand firmly covering his mouth.

“Kí!” Fíli dashed up the last few steps. “Oi! You let my brother go, right now! I’m warning you!” Fíli growled as he drew his twin swords.

“Who are yeh, and what business do yeh ‘ave ‘ere? Are yeh thieves? Bandits?” The dwarf holding Kíli captive glanced warily from Fíli to the entrance where Thorin now stood, brandishing Orcrist. Kíli struggled and got his head loose enough to bite his captor’s wrist. “ _Ach!_ ” He let Kíli go, and the young star bounded forward to stand beside his brother, huffing and furious.

“We’re _not_ thieves. Nor are we bandits,” he glared at the dwarf, who stood rubbing his wrist.

“Peace! I meant no ‘arm.” The wagon’s inhabitant held up both of his hands. “Yeh can ne’er be too careful in these parts, after all, what with the goblins patrollin’.” He turned to Thorin. “That blade yer carryin’. It wouldn’t ‘appen t’ be Elven, would it?”

Thorin squinted suspiciously at the new dwarf and held his chin high. “It might. Who’s asking?”

“Gimonul of Erebor is me name.” He reached behind him and procured a thin mithril chain, which ran from a shackle on his ankle to a loop in the back wall. He shook it lightly and it tinkled with a musical sound.

Thorin took a sharp intake of breath – he recognized that chain. “So, you’re held captive by the foul creature that assaulted our companion?”

“Aye. I take it yeh’ve met Gollum, then?”

“So that truly is his name?” Fíli asked.

“It does make sense, given that strange coughing sound he makes,” Kíli chimed in. The binaries began browsing the wagon’s interiors, curious about the strange artifacts lining the shelves.

“Smart lads yeh’ve got ‘here!” Gimonul smiled at the binaries. “Ev’ryone calls ‘im Gollum. ‘E ‘ad an actual name once, but it’s been lost t’ time.” He moved to the side window and peered out, looking for Gollum and the stars’ companion. “Well, seems as if the attack ‘as ended. Yer friend there is quite clever t’ distract ‘im with riddles. ‘Old on a moment…” he glanced questioningly at Thorin. “Sev’ral armed fellows as yerselves should ‘ave been able t’ protect yer friend. ‘Ow do I know yeh didn’t leave the poor fellow to his fate?”

“We would never abandon Bilbo!” Kíli shouted.

“It’s not our fault the thing has dark magic that kept us at bay!” Fíli added.

“Dark magic? So ‘e did actually use a spell against yeh?” Gimonul looked taken aback. “Huh. The coward usually runs when outnumbered.”

Thorin shook his head. “No, he did not. Not that I could see, anyways. It seemed to be more of a shield that prevented us from touching him. What’s more, he didn’t seem able to see or hear us.”

_< If you come across them, you will neither see them, hear them, smell them, taste them, nor feel them.>_

Understanding dawned upon Gimonul as he remembered Azog’s curse. “Ye’re not from around ‘ere, are yeh?” he asked as he sat upon a hard stool and pointed at the ceiling.

Thorin shook his head. “No.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “And I suspect that now that you know, you’re not going to let us go peacefully.”

Gimonul waved his hands swiftly in front of him. “I wouldn’ think of anything but that! Yeh’ve probably been srugglin’ enough, I reckon! This land ‘as not been kind t’ stars in the past. And if there’s any way I can ‘elp yeh, I will. I do ‘ave one request, though.” He held up the chain again and pulled it taught before him.

“Uncle, with his help, he can get us to Bree,” Fíli whispered.

Thorin nodded briefly. “Agreed. I was bound by a chain such as that. Our own hobbit captured me with it when we first met.” Thorin’s voice dropped to a soft whisper through his small smile, “and he now holds me with a bond stronger than mithril…” Thorin’s smile grew and his skin began to sparkle brightly. “It took a wizard’s magic to break my mithril chain. I know not the full extent of Orcrist’s magic, but it’s worth a try.”

“Your own hobbit?” Gimonul smiled. “I knew a hobbit lass once. She stole me ‘eart, and it was the darkest of nights when I ‘ad t’ let her go. She took a section of this chain with ‘er. Per’aps that was ‘er portion. Ah, but I’m just bein’ ‘opeful. That was decades ago, and I can only ‘ope that she and our child are still alive. I ‘eard tales of a tragic winter in ‘er ‘omeland, and because of this chain, I was unable to run to aid ‘er people.” Gimonul closed his eyes and dropped his chin in shame.

Thorin brought Orcrist down upon the mithril chain with all his strength. It parted more smoothly than butter, and the two ends burned with a blue light as the chain disintegrated. “Your hobbit lass… her name wasn’t Belladonna, by any chance, was it?”

Gimonul smiled at Thorin, tears shining in his eyes. “Yes! That’s my jewel! Have you met her? Is she safe?”

Thorin shook his head. “I have not. But the halfling I travel with – Bilbo - is her son.”

“Bilbo,” Gimonul whispered. “Well, it’s a good think the lad ‘as a good ‘ead on ‘is shoulders! If ‘e was raised in the Shire, ‘e won’t like bein’ called ‘halfing,’ as I’m sure yeh know.”

Thorin smirked. “Yes, he has brought it up a few times. But he truly is a halfing, isn’t he? Half dwarf, half hobbit. Though he still considers himself a hobbit.”

Gimonul chuckled. “Of course ‘e would! Anyways, yeh said ‘e ‘olds yeh with a bond stronger than mithril?” Gimonul leaned forward with a twinkle in his eyes.

“I think that would be putting it lightly,” Kíli said as he turned a small brown box in his hands, admiring the craftsmanship.

“Our uncle has taken quite a shine to Bilbo, so to speak,” Fíli added.

The binaries looked at one another, but couldn’t keep their straight faces and collapsed in a fit of giggles.

Thorin’s neck turned red, and the blush spread up to his cheeks and ears, but his sparkle grew brighter. “Is it really that obvious?”

“Laddie,” Gimonul sighed and placed an arm around Thorin’s shoulder.

Thorin laughed. “’Laddie?’ Have you any idea just how old I actually am?”

“Well, I can’t call yeh by yer name when yeh ‘aven’t trusted me to it.”

“Ah,” Thorin cleared his throat. “I am Thorin. And these are my nephews, Fíli and Kíli.” The young stars bowed in turn.

“Well, Thorin, I take it from this reaction that yeh’ve been keepin’ yer love a secret. Yeh clearly care about my lad.”

“ _Bagginses! Thief! Curse it and break it, we hates it forever!”_ Gimonul and the Blue Dwarves could clearly hear Gollum’s screech and nearly lost their footing as the wagon lurched into motion.

“Bilbo…” Thorin breathed and ran to the wagon’s side door, trying to pull it open.

“No! Don’t, yeh’ll fall and break yer neck at this speed!” Gimonul held Thorin back from the door, and turned as the terra cotta vase near the window fell as if knocked over. He squinted around, but nobody was to be seen. Well, except for Fíli and Kíli, who were on the opposite side seated on the plush bench that was Gollum’s bed.

“I cannot leave him behind!” Thorin yanked himself out of Gimonul’s grasp.

“I saw ‘im ‘olding on outside,” Gimonul bluffed. “Fear not, Thorin. Bilbo is with us.” He heard a scuffle in the corner and winked at the empty space. “Now, come over and sit with old Gí. Tell me. What do yeh know of love?”

Thorin cleared his throat. “Well, from what I’ve seen from above, it can move people to great deeds. It can also cause fierce jealousy and violence. It can lead to great happiness, or great pain, especially when lost. My sister’s heart broke when Víli fell and left her sons fatherless.”

Gimonul nodded. “Aye, but what does yer heart tell yeh about it?”

Thorin thought for a moment, then gazed off into the distance. “That it’s unexpected. Uncontrollable. Unbearable. And if it’s true, it’s unconditional. Bilbo is my world, but…” his shine dimmed as his smile fell.

Gimonul nudged his shoulder. “But what?”

“I haven’t told him how I feel because it’s impossible. _We’re_ impossible. I don’t know if Belladonna told you, but in the Shire, when two hobbit men love each other openly, they are condemned and driven off. Bilbo went out to retrieve some fallen mithril to avoid blackmail because some greedy, mean-spirited… _harridan_ found him out and threatened to tell the whole village. And he loves his home so… so perhaps it’s best that I leave him, my feelings unrequited, and-“

“Oh, stop it.” Gimonul smacked the back of Thorin’s hand, and Thorin gazed at him in shock. “Yeh’ve got t’ tell ‘im, yeh big oaf. It’s true that hobbits love their homes with most of their ‘earts. But they love family more. And if ‘e feels the same way about yeh, ‘e’ll forsake that home to follow ‘is ‘eart. It was only because of Gollum’s treachery that I sent Belladonna away. My ‘eart’s been ‘eavy ever since. It’s only been the ‘ope of freedom and seein’ ‘er again that kept me goin’ these many years. And if the stellar dwarves love as strongly as Arda dwarves do, then yeh’ll ne’er forgive yerself if yeh go home alone.”

“But what if he doesn’t…” Thorin trailed off, and gazed out the window.

Fíli snorted. “Uncle, you can really be an idiot sometimes.”

“Fíli…” Thorin growled in warning.

“He’s right, you know.” Kíli’s feet dangled off Gollum’s bed and swung back and forth on their own accord. “Have you _seen_ the way Bilbo looks at you when you’re not paying attention?”

Thorin opened his mouth than shut it. “What did you say?”

Fíli smirked and raised an eyebrow. “Which look do you mean, Kí? The blind admiration, the one as if soaking up sun after being in a dark, damp place for far too long, or the one as if eyeing a good steak at market?”

A panicked cough sounded from the far corner of the wagon, but none but Gimonul caught.

Kíli’s laughed aloud. “All _three_ of them.” His feet stopped moving and he leaned forward. “Uncle, I’m saying that I’m tired of watching the two of you dance around one another. If you don’t tell him when we get to Bree, I will.”

Gimonul chuckled at Thorin’s flabbergasted expression. “I ‘eartily agree with them. What if ‘e doesn’t? I find that unlikely, given yer nephews’ report just now. Thorin, what if ‘e does? If yeh leave ‘im alone, ‘eartbroken and lonely, I will personally find a way into the ‘eavens to ‘unt yeh down and box yeh about the ears. See that I don’t!”

Thorin hummed. “You’ve given me much to think about. If Bilbo ever asks me to give him my heart, I would have to decline.”

Fíli and Kíli stood up in indignation. “Uncle, you can’t be serious!”

“Are you really that daft?”

“You would deny yourselves eternity?”

“I wasn’t finished!” Thorin roared. “I’d have to decline because how could I possibly give him something he already possesses?”

Gimonul nodded and patted Thorin’s knee before jumping up. “Well then! Who’s up for biscuits? They’ve got chocolate bits in them. Anyway, yeh must tell me all about yer travels so far!”

Gimonul and the three stars spent the rest of the trip conversing amiably while Bilbo remained hidden in the corner, spinning the ring on his finger. At one point, Gimonul conveniently “missed” when he threw a biscuit at Fíli, and Bilbo caught it instead. He didn’t dare to show himself for fear of Gollum discovering his whereabouts. He would just have to climb back out the window once they were near their destination.

In the meantime, he had much to think about. His father was alive, just there before him. He had so many questions, but no opportunity. Once this business with Lobelia was finished, he would have to find Gimonul once again, now that he knew where to look. Or perhaps now that the magic chain was destroyed, Gimonul would come visit Hobbiton, and his family would finally be whole again.

Bilbo finished his biscuit and brushed the crumbs off his coat and watched Thorin closely for the rest of the trip. Were his words true? Was he sincere? Could someone he just met days ago already feel so strongly for him? If so, then how could he possibly send the three stars home now?

‘Well, Bilbo Baggins, what predicament have you gotten yourself into this time?’ He thought as the echoes of the mountain pass were left behind.


	19. Welcome,Weary Travelers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, life has been insanely busy! But here's the next chapter (finally!) and the promised Bagginshield~ These two have been dancing around each other long enough... I swear...

Chapter 19 – Welcome, Weary Travelers

The gaudy wagon creaked slightly as Gollum reined the horses to a slow plod, their sweaty sides heaving from the breakneck pace through the mountains. He sat morosely upon the driver’s box, still sniffling, his rage much diminished after the hours passed by. The shadows had begun to lengthen, painting the wagon’s vibrant sides a rich orange. “What will we do, love, with the precious gone?”

“The Bagginses needs to go home at some point,” Gollum snarled. “Bagginses of the Shire, he said, remember, my pet?”

“Yes, yess….” Gollum purred as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He squinted around before catching sight of a sign pos. “Nor far from Bree, Gollum! But that doesn’t tell us about the Shire.”

Gollum blinked and hummed. “Perhaps not, precious. But there’s someone in town who might tl us about the Shire.”

“Quite right we are! Bree’s a big place, after all… we’ll find the one called Strider. He’s always moving around, isn’t he?”

“Yes he is! First we finds him, and makes him talk to us, and then… “ Gollum cackled maliciously as he slammed a clenched fist into his open, other hand.

“To the Shire we go,” he sang softly, “and then we’ll go to the Bagginses’ home and take back the precious.” Gollum squirmed with delight over his brilliant plan. After he’d settled down into a pleased crouch, he cracked the whip above the horses’ ears and guided them down the road to Bree.

 

The dwarves and hobbit inside the wagon could smell the town long before they could hear the bustle. Augh, what’s that Mahal-accursed smell?” Kíli whined. He picked the lid up off the old kettle and wafted it above the pot, trying to circulate some of the tea’s vapors through the enclosed space.

“Kíli, don’t. You’re just making it worse.” Fíli snatched the pot lid away from his brother and held it behind him, out of reach.

“Oi! Give it back, Fí! I was only trying to help!” He leaned over, trying desperately to retrieve the stolen item.

Thorin pinched the bridge of his nose. “Will you both settle down? Honestly…” he growled. “How your mother has put up with you two children, Mahal only knows.”

Gimonul chuckled. “Ah, let them be lads while they still can. Anyways, I reckon we’re comin’ up t’ the sewage gate of Bree. Judgin’ by the smell and our direction, we’ll be stoppin’ soon enough.”

“Oh, that’s good!” Kíli remarked. “Poor Bilbo, hanging on outside the wagon all this time… I hope the poor fellow hasn’t fallen off along the way.”

Thorin stood up abruptly and ran to the window, glancing out in alarm, as Fíli whapped the back of Kíli’s head. “Kí! Don’t say things like that! Bilbo’s fine. Right, Gí?”

Bilbo rolled his eyes, unseen in his corner of the wagon. ‘Of course I’m fine,’ he wanted to say. ‘Yes, my bum’s a bit sore from being jostled with every bump of this infernal ride, but I just need a stretch and a bath and I’ll be right as rain again.’

“Well, if there’s one thing dwarves are good at, it’s bein’ stubborn about not lettin’ go,” Gimonul replied. “Or, at least, that’s what people will tell yeh around ‘ere. And if I’m honest with meself, they’re right about that. Don’t worry, Thorin. Bilbo’s part dwarf. ‘E’s probably fine. I bet ‘e’s on the back – there are more footholds there. It’s how I climb up t’ fix the roof when it’s leaky! If yeh shout out the window, I bet ‘e’ll knock t’ let yeh know ‘e’s still here now that ‘e can hear without the canyon echoes getting’ in the way.” He winked at Bilbo’s general location behind him.

Thorin nodded and leaned slightly out the window. The street was narrow, and the buildings tight and close together. If he reached out enough, he could probably touch the bricks on their facades. Beggars in rags lounged at the entrances to alleyways, mumbling for spare change. It was just an example of yet another scene he’d long viewed from the sky. It was so different in person… but he had a task to attend to. “Bilbo, are you there?” he called. “Knock thrice if you are!” He shot a glare downward as an elderly man peered at him curiously from beneath his wide brimmed hat as the wagon progressed toward the center of town.

Bilbo sighed. ‘This is ridiculous,’ he thought as he knocked on the back wall. ‘But if it helps my stubborn dwarf be at ease, it’s the best I can do, and a Baggins never gives less than his best, as is right and proper in the world.’

Thorin settled back down, but squinted suspiciously at the rear wall. “Are you sure that was Bilbo? It sound as if the knock originated from inside, with us. How do I know you’re not using sorcery to trick us?”

“Don’t be silly, uncle. There’ nothing there,” Fíli scoffed.

“And besides,” Kíli added, “have you ever seen a dwarf wizard down here? I haven’t. You’ve watched Arda zounds longer than I have. You ought to know that dwarves can’t use magic.”

Thorin frowned at the back wall, but eventually turned his glare back to his nephew. “And you ought to know, given our previous discussion, why I would naturally be concerned.”

Bilbo’s heart ached as he heard those words. How he longed to comfort his bristling dwarf… if he scooted a little, he could probably put a reassuring hand on Thorin’s thigh to comfort him. But no, that would probably startle him, given that he was still invisible.

Thorin looked up with new resolve. “Once we stop, what then? Bilbo’s not safe with the creature up front so close by. Could you recommend a place to stay the night? And how far is it to the Wall?”

Gimonul’s eyes sparkled. “Actually, I do know a rather nice inn. It’s in the middle of the market district, so there may be a few ruffians, but don’t let the atmosphere of the tavern discourage yeh. They ‘ave wond’rful rooms and the best ale there is t’ be found outside the royal city. Look for the Prancing Pony, and ask for Butterbur. Tell ‘im Gí sent you, and ye’ll ‘ave no trouble gettin’ a room reserved. Oh and did I mention they ‘ave plenty of ‘ot water for the tubs?”

Bilbo nearly hummed out loud in delighted anticipation of the lovely soak that surely lay ahead for him.

Thorin nodded. “That should do. I’m sure we can handle a few brigands if they give us trouble at the entrance. And, the Wall?”

According to Bella’s stories, which I remember as well as the day she told me, it’s only a couple hours’ walk to the west of the market gate. Ye’ll ‘ave no difficulty gettin’ t’ the Shire in time. Just follow the road. Can’t miss it.” He tilted his head as the wheels screeched to a halt. “Well, Thorin. Fíli, Kíli. It’s been lovely, but now we must part. Say ‘ello to Bella for me, if yeh meet her. Could yeh pass that along to Bilbo?”

“Of course we will,” Fíli smiled.

“And you should leave that creature and find her again!” Kíli beamed as he bounced out the door after his brother. Once the two were outside, their eyes sparkled with curiosity. Hundreds of people milled about in every direction, visiting the many colorful vendors’ stands throughout the square. It was chaos, but as they watched further, they could almost discern patterns as if every person were part of a very elaborate dance.

Back in the wagon, Thorin approached Gimonul and held out his hand. “Thank you. For your advice earlier. I will be certain to keep it in mind.”

Gimonul cleared his throat and made a point of tilting his head toward the open window as he stretched. Bilbo took his cue and climbed out, swiftly yet silently, to where Thorin would undoubtedly check for him in half a moment’s time. “It was a pleasure meetin’ yeh, Thorin.” Gimonul grasped the offered hand and thumped Thorin’s shoulder heartily. “And yer nephews. And… yeh might want to get a separate room fer the youngsters, hm?” He winked at Thorin, who squinted at the dwarf before turning bright red as understanding dawned upon him. “Oh, don’t look so scandalized!” Gimonul chuckled, “I know what young love is like! Now, away with yeh!”

Thorin cleared his throat and nodded shortly before taking his leave. True to Bilbo’s expectations, he made a beeline to the back of the wagon. “What’s that?” he asked as he caught Bilbo putting something small in his coat pocket.

Bilbo jumped a little. “Oh, nothing! Uh… you know, just… brushing the dust off from the road!” Bilbo smiled up at him as he brushed sides up and down to demonstrate. “How are you, Thorin?”

Thorin’s expression softened as he smiled at Bilbo. “I am fine. More so than you, I expect.” His brows knit together with concern as he gently lifted one of Bilbo’s arms up to inspect it. “Have your arms recovered from clinging back here for so long? They must be as sore as a smithy apprentice’s after his first day at the anvil. I can carry your pack, if you’d like.” He moved to grab one of the shoulder straps.

“Ah, no, I’m fine,” Bilbo swatted his hand away, then mumbled, “overly concerned stars…”

“No, I insist,” Thorin asserted, though he gave Bilbo a little bit of space.

Bilbo smiled and shuffled his feet. “Well, if you must.” He pulled off the pack and tossed it to his companion. “Where are Fíli and Kíli? We should probably stay together in this dense crowd.” He jumped up and down a few times to see over the shoulders of the men and women hurrying about their daily lives with no concern for the smaller beings in their midst. “It wouldn’t do to get lost so close to our destination.”

Thorin slung the pack over his shoulders as he stood next to Bilbo, his elbow lightly touching his friend’s shoulder. “Oh, I’m sure they’re nearby. I expect they’re trying to find our inn.”

Bilbo hummed. “That sounds lovely. I could use a rest for the evening!” He stretched his arms up and back, bowing out his belly. He smiled wide as he relaxed, arms swinging lightly at his sides. “Big day tomorrow, you know!” He began to walk toward the center of the square. “Excuse me… pardon me… ouch! Watch where you’re putting those boots,” Bilbo squeaked as he pushed through the crowd of men.

Thorin smiled fondly and shook his head watching him try to weave between the people without success. He surged forward, gripped Bilbo under the arms, and lifted him up.

“Th-Thorin!” Bilbo squirmed as he was set upon his broad shoulders. “I’m not a fauntling to carry about wherever you please!” He gently pulled on one the thin braids framing Thorin’s face.

“I know that,” Thorin said, looking up at him. Bilbo’s heart dropped into his stomach as he felt the star’s chest rumble with his voice. “But you’ll never spot them like that in this crowd. And now they can see us. Also, look for a sign. Gimonul said we should look for the Prancing Pony.”

Bilbo was nervous about being so high up, but shrugged and took comfort as he twined his fingers into Thorin’s hair for a gentle grip. After a few moments, he spotted Fíli and Kíli’s glows in the twilit shadows as they waved from near the inn across the square. “There they are. You can put me down now. Hey! Thorin!”

Thorin laughed as Bilbo protested while he moved through the crowd. “Complain all you want, but I’ll not have your bare feet stepped on any more this evening. I assure you, you’re no real burden, and you’ll be on your own two legs when we get there.”

Bilbo muttered, “Stubborn dwarves,” under his breath, but he smiled softly as he played with Thorin’s hair. And if Thorin began to glow at the action, all the better. True to his word, Thorin set Bilbo down at the inn’s entrance. They briefly stared at one another, smiles growing larger with each passing second.

The binaries smirked at the pair, and Fíli cleared his throat. “What took you so long?” they asked together.

“Oh, nothing,” Thorin breathed as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Bilbo jumped a little and patted down his pockets and clearing his throat. His stomach chose that precise moment to growl loudly. Fíli laughed and slung an arm around the hobbit’s shoulders. “Well then, shall we go talk to this Butterbur fellow and get some food and rest?”

Bilbo’s ears turned pink as he nodded. Thorin glanced at him in concern. “Yes, you two find the hostess while Bilbo and I rent some rooms for us. Get some dinners, then I’ll find us some of this fabled ale while Bilbo takes his bath. I’m sure hobbits prefer to dine nice and clean. Right, Bilbo?”

“Quite right you are!” Bilbo remarked as the four entered the Prancing Pony. “And I – oh dear.” He squinted around in the dim lamplight at the hubbub in the common room. ‘Ruffians indeed,’ he thought as he spotted a bar fight starting up in the back corner. “Perhaps we should dine in our rooms in more civil company?”

Fíli and Kíli swiftly entered the common room to enquire about obtaining meals. Thorin nodded as they reached the front counter. The post seemed to be abandoned, so he glanced around to find the innkeeper, completely ignoring the sign upon the desk.

Bilbo rolled his eyes as he stood on tip-toe to read it. “Must be designed for larger folk…” he grumbled, “‘Ring once if I’m not here. GB.’” he whispered. He spotted a small silver bell hanging on a little brass stand at the side of the desk and gave the cord a sharp tug. When Thorin looked at the source of the sudden sound that pierced the tavern’s cacophony, Bilbo raised his eyebrows and pointed to the sign.

Before a comment could be made, however, a small boy climbed up on the stool behind the counter and stood upon it so he could be at Bilbo’s level. “Hi, there! I’m Barliman! Welcome to my pa’s inn! I just turned six last week, and I’m gonna run it when I get as tall as momma, and I-“

A rotund man with a ruddy complexion waddled through a door off to the side. “Barley! Get down from there before you fall and break your neck and I have to explain what happened to your mother!” The man turned to Bilbo and Thorin. “I’m sorry about this, if you’d be so kind as to give me a moment. Now, what did I say about tending the desk past your bedtime, hm?”

The young boy looked down and kicked at a crumpled paper on the floor. “That bedtime is for sleeping, not for greeting… when I’m big enough to see without climbing, can I stay up later?” his eyes sparkled as he looked back up at his father, whose stern expression softened.

“Oh, all right. Now, away with you! You can accompany guests in your dreams.” He turned the boy toward the side door and gave him a light shove. Then, wiping his hands upon the towel tucked into his belt, he approached the desk and addressed Bilbo and Thorin. “Good evening, little masters! Though I see you’ve already been greeted by my little shadow, Barliman. My name’s Butterbur. Gilbert Butterbur. What can I do for you?” she said as he wiped his hands upon the towel tucked into his belt.

“Little masters… as if we were children ourselves…” Thorin growled.

Bilbo elbowed Thorin in the ribs. “Oh, don’t be rude,” he hissed. “The place is clearly busy and he’s being very polite.”

“Peace, master dwarf! I meant to disrespect!” Butterbur pulled a quill out of one of the desk’ drawers and set it in the inkwell. “You must be new to Bree. As I’ve sure you’ve seen, it’s a bit of a melting pot town, and I was merely distinguishing you from the taller men, who make up the majority of our population. It’s not often that we see a few dwarves pass by, but it does happen! Now then, what brings you to the Prancing Pony?”

Thorin opened his mouth, but Bilbo gently placed a hand on his forearm and stepped forward. “We’d like to rent two rooms for the night, as well as dinner. And we’d like some hot water right away. We’ve travelled long and far today, and the four of us are very weary.” Bilbo extracted his coin purse from his pocket. “How much would all that be?”

“Gí recommended you,” Thorin added.

“Ah! Good man, Gimonul! Haven’t seen him in a while. Is he still with Slinker?” Butterbur began shuffling papers in the book upon his desk, searching for a vacancy.

Bilbo nodded. “He was when we parted ways not long ago.”

“Hm…Butterbur nodded. “Strange fellow, that one. But he buys all my fish, so I guess I can’t complain as a businessman!” He smiled wide and clutched his belly as he laughed jovially. After a few moments, he settled down, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes. “Ah, it appears you’re in luck! I just happen to have two more dwarf-sized rooms available. But they’re not conjoined. I hope that will be okay.”

“That should be just fine, Mister Butterbur,” Bilbo smiled.

“Right! That’ll be two silvers for the night.” Bilbo nodded as he counted out the proper change and set the coins in Butterbur’s outstretched palm. After depositing them in a secured box under the counter, Butterbur leaned on the desk, hands clasped before him. “Now then, what name would this go under?”

“Baggins, if you please,” Bilbo replied instantly.

“Baggins, eh? Strange name for a dwarf, if you pardon my saying so.”

Bilbo pursed his lips as Thorin chuckled. “It is, isn’t it? But just go with it. I’m sure there’s an interesting story behind the epithet. If you could just show us where we are to stay.”

“Right this way, sirs!” Butterbur waddled out from behind the counter and led them up a staircase and down a cheerfully lit hallway to their rooms. “This one and the one across the hall down thataways, if they please you.”

Bilbo smiled at him. “That will do nicely, mister Butterbur. Now… about those hot baths I heard about?”

“I’ll fetch some water straight away, Master Baggins!” Butterbur smiled and bowed awkwardly, then shuffled back down the hall.

Bilbo entered one of the rooms and sighed as he sat on the edge of the bed, feet dangling as he took in the surroundings. “Ah, yes. This is lovely. Thorin, why don’t you find Fíli and Kíli and show them to their room?”

Thorin nodded and left the room, closing the door securely behind him. He paused and smiled for a moment, eagerly awaiting the conversation he would be having with Bilbo in a few moments when they were alone together. It wasn’t hard to find his nephews once he’d entered the tavern. All he need do was look for their excited glimmers as they soaked up the new environment. The two were currently learning what sounded like very crude drinking songs from one of the tables of men.

“Are you watching this, Dís?” he muttered. “I’ll go save your boys from the inevitable fool-making that is bound to happen.”

But no sooner had he stepped forward than Fíli spotted him, tugged on his brother’s sleeve, and the two bounded over to join him. “Uncle! This place is so lively! The brawl in the back settled down after the barmaid smashed a chair over the instigating brigand’s head! It was awesome!” Kíli babbled.

Thorin stared at them for a moment, then wrapped an arm around each of their shoulders. “It sounds like you had a bit of an adventure, in that case. Well, all adventurers must off to bed. You’ve had a long day, and no doubt you’re tired and hungry. I see you have obtained dinner. What is it?”

Fíli glanced at the steaming meat pie on one of the two plates he carried, then shrugged. “I’m not entirely sure. But it smells amazing.”

Thorin prodded the surface of a pie. “I’m sure they will do nicely. Where’s the tap? Have you found it yet?”

“Oh, sure,” Fíli replied. “It’s over there. We just couldn’t carry everything at once.”

Moments later, the three stars were headed upstairs to their rooms. Fíli and Kíli each carried their own plates and pints, while Thorin balanced his and Bilbo’s meals on his forearms, a tankard clutched in each hand.

“You two will stay here for the night – and I mean stay. It would be impolite to fall asleep in the daytime while Bilbo’s introducing us to his problematic relative.”

Fíli nodded first. “Goodnight, Uncle. Don’t let the hobbits bite.”

Kíli smirked. “Yeah, unless… you want them to bite.” He and Fíli exchanged a glance and the two burst into giggles.

“I don’t – that is…” Thorin sputtered, cheeks blazing. “What I do or don’t do tonight is none of your business. Just go to bed already!”

Barely containing their laughter, the young stars retreated into their room. Thorin sighed and took a few calming breaths before going to his own door. Still holding the two sets of meals, he glared briefly at the doorknob, as if doing so would intimidate the door into opening itself while his hands were full. ‘I could call for Bilbo to open it,’ he mused, ‘but that would likely awaken any other guests in the nearby rooms. Which would embarrass him greatly, if he had to pop out and apologize for my inconsiderate behavior.’ Thorin could feel the faint tickle of his skin beginning to sparkle at the mental image of his flustered companion. ‘And then I would have to explain this growing glow, which would reveal myself, and likely my nephews by proxy. That would not be ideal. Best to figure out how to enter by myself.’ He carefully bent to set the meals down without spilling a drop of ale from the full tankards so he could open the door. Holding it with his toe, he retrieved the dishes and opened it the rest of the way with his shoulder.

As he entered the room, he was greeted by the sight of a scrubbed pink Bilbo emerging from his bath. He cleared his throat quite audibly, and the naked hobbit squeaked and dived behind the changing screen.

“Ah, Thorin! You could have knocked and waited until I was decent! This is… oh bother…” the clearly flustered hobbit emerged in a plush bathrobe, water dripping from his wet curls.

“I brought food.” Thorin set the plates and tankards down on the bedside table. “And you cut your hair again.”

“Unbelievable.” Bilbo crossed his arms and stamped his foot. “No ‘I’m sorry Bilbo. I should have waited until you were ready for me to enter. I apologize.’ Just ‘I brought food?!’ What kind of excuse is that? Also, how was I going to explain that braid to Hobbiton tomorrow? For one thing, it’s women’s fashion. And for another, hobbit hair doesn’t grow that fast. They’d take me for a freak if they recognized me at all!”

“It wasn’t an excuse,” Thorin remarked. “I was merely stating a fact.”

“You know you really- are those meat pies?”

Thorin blinked at Bilbo’s sudden change in mood, then laughed. “Ah, ghivashel. You never cease to amaze me.”

Bilbo tilted his head. “Yes well… when a hobbit is hungry, food is a very good deterrent. Also a perfectly acceptable means of apology. Why, my mother herself had a very specific pie that she would bake for just such occasions!” He picked up a plate and sat on the bed next to Thorin, testing the weight and quality of the crust before taking his first bite. “Oh, this is wonderful…” he moaned at the perfect balance of meats and gravy inside.

“That good, hm?” Thorin murmured and bumped his shoulder against Bilbo’s.

“Oh no. You won’t like it at all and I’ll have to eat yours for you.”

“If that is what you wish…” Thorin started to pass his share over.

“Yavanna’s sake, Thorin, I wasn’t being serious!” Bilbo pushed the plate back over Thorin’s lap. “Yes, it was delicious. Yes, if you really don’t like it, I would be sad to let it go to waste and eat it myself.” After a few seconds, Bilbo folded his hands on his lap and crossed his ankles, fiddling with his fingers. “Thorin… may I ask a question?”

Thorin tilted his head. “Of course, ghivashel.”

“That’s the second time you’ve called me that. What does it mean? …I suppose I’ll be asking two questions, then,” Bilbo chuckled nervously as he looked at his hands.

Thorin reached out and gently pulled Bilbo’s chin up so he could make eye contact. “It is a dwarvish word I picked up over many years of watching the world below. In common tongue, it means “greatest of all treasures.”

“So it’s true,” Bilbo breathed as his pulse quickened. “What you said to my father in the wagon.”

Thorin dropped his hand from Bilbo’s chin abruptly. “You heard? But you weren’t there! You were outside, on its back!”

“Actually…” Bilbo trailed off as he got up to retrieve his jacket and pulled the golden ring out of its recesses. “It was this. I don’t know how, but it turns me invisible when I wear it. That’s how I was able to hide from Gollum. But you were being so sincere, and I didn’t want to startle you without hearing the words from your heart.”

“So I was right. Your knock was inside with us.”

“Yes.”

“Should we tell Fíli and Kíli?”

“No… something tells me I should keep this a secret. Keep it safe, you know? And besides.” Bilbo grinned mischievously. “Think of how much fun we can have teasing them before you three go home.” He smiled at the object and stood there, turning it about in his fingers, seemingly forgetting the world around him.

Thorin stood to join him, and placed his hands on either of Bilbo’s shoulders. Bilbo tensed at the sudden contact at first. Then, he leaned onto Thorin’s warm, expansive chest, pocketing the ring in his robe. “I don’t want to forget you,” he whispered. He tilted his chin up and placed a soft kiss upon Thorin’s cheek, and wrapped his fingers around one of Thorin’s braids. “Especially now that I know your feelings match my own.”

Thorin’s eyes darkened with desire as he moved one hand to the back to Bilbo’s head and the other to the small of his back, drawing him in closer. “I’d rather not forget the Halfling who is apparently my One, either,” he whispered huskily. “And actually,” he stared softly into Bilbo’s eyes, “if you’d have me, I would never leave this world without you. It may be tough at first, but-“

His words were silenced as Bilbo brought their lips together with a gentle tug on his braid, kissing his star long and passionately. At some point, he let go of Thorin’s hair, tugged the clasps of Thorin’s tunic open so he could explore the skin underneath with his fingertips. Bilbo had also pushed him back until the backs of his knees hit the mattress and he sat down, Bilbo climbing onto his lap to maintain the contact. Moments later, they parted, gasping and in need of air, giggling headily as they both noticed their change of positioning. 

Bilbo almost had to squint, so bright was the Blue Dwarf’s delighted gleam. He hummed contently and curled up, resting his head beneath Thorin’s chin and lisening to his heartbeat. “There’s another thing I’ve been wondering about. What did Captain Bullroarer say to you when we disembarked?”

Thorin smiled fondly and caressed Bilbo’s cheek with the back of his hand. “He told me I’d have to be blind to ignore the treasure before me, and that unless I wanted to suffer a life filled with endless longing, that I’d be wise to stay with you.”

“He’s right, you know.” Bilbo looked up and tapped a gentle pattern along Thorin’s collar bone. “I’d love nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you at my side.”

Thorin smiled broadly, and caressed Bilbo’s cheek then set his forehead upon Bilbo’s. “Ah, my dearest Bilbo… what I wouldn’t give to make that our reality.”

The pies remained on the bedside table, forgotten and cooling as the passion heated between the new lovers.

 

“Guys, guys! Come here, you have to see this.” Zelu poked out from the side of the Prancing Pony as his ghostly brothers sat atop the sign.

“Oh, leave them be!” Gemul grumbled, glaring back at him before letting out an exasperated sigh and returning his chin to his cradling hands. “Pervert…”

“Suit yourself.” Zelu shrugged and disappeared back into the building.

“Well, I’m happy for them!” Armekhul beamed. “I say they were very lonely just a few days ago. It’s good they’ve found comfort and joy with each other’s company.”

Nulu scoffed. “A few days is hardly long enough to develop an enduring relationship. It’ll never last. And besides. What if the glowy fellow is already promised to someone else back in wherever he came from?”

“I highly doubt it,” Geshul added. “Such a grumpy dwarf… he truly had a heart of cold granite that only warmed for his nephews, it seemed. If he had such a partnership before, he wasn’t content with it.”

Gamekhul chuckled. “Yes, well, this could either end very well or in emotional catastrophe. It all depends on what happens tomorrow afternoon, from the sound of their earlier conversations. They’ll certainly be doomed to failure if they stay across the Wall.”

Gemul hummed. “Yes… it’s an entirely different world. Folk are more petty, I’ve heard. But if they truly are each other’s Ones… they’ll work something out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now these two dorks are FINALLY together, hehe *throws confetti*.  
> Similarly, my own ghivashel is finally in the same city as I am! Huzzah, long distance is over. The past five years have been loooooong, but that happens when one of you goes to college far away and then your family moves across the country.
> 
> I can't wait to write the next chapter - necessary filler before we get back to Bilbo, which will also be a really fun one to write :)


	20. Return to the Wall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow this took a long time to get done! Life has been super busy the past few months - details in notes after the chapter

“ALL HALT!!!” the goblin king bellowed from atop his great litter. As his minions lowered him to the ground, he sat back and pouted, drumming his fingers against the bone staff that lay across his lap. Beads of sweat formed on his brow as he looked out at the opening of the mountain pass. “The Dark Lord will not be pleased with this failure… but clearly the stars have left the mountains…” he mumbled.

Grinnah approached cautiously. “Your malevolence? Dol Guldur lies just ahead. Why have we stopped? Is it because we have lost track of-“

“OF COURSE WE HAVE LOST TRACK OF THE STARS!” The goblin king slammed his staff into a loose boulder, which shattered and buried a few of the lesser goblins in the rubble. The remaining goblins screeched and cowered, covering their heads as loose pebbles continued to fall. “I am trying to decide our next course of action. Reporting a failure would be less than desirable, however…”

Grinnah wrung his hands together as he glanced over his shoulder toward the great pit that housed the fortress. “If I may suggest, sire, we could return briefly to pick up some tracking wargs?”

The goblin king shook his head, causing his gullet to sway like a fleshy pendulum. “No. The wargs only listen to the orcs.”

“You’re right, of course.” Grinnah bowed low. “How then shall we proceed, mighty leader?”

“We could consult the bones…” The goblin king leaned back and squinted as he rubbed his chin. “That’s assuming Bolg returned them. They should be available for our use.” He nodded and shifted in his seat. “We shall return to Dol Goldur for a brief respite. ONWARD!!!”

The smaller goblins scrambled to regain their hold on the litter. Knees quaking and barely holding, they eventually hoisted the immense weight upon their shoulders. Unnoticed by the goblins, a single raven wheeled overhead. It watched them skitter down the slope leading to the fortress’s black gates, then flew southward.

As the group approached Dol Guldur, a withered old orc approached the goblin king. “What is it? What do you want?” the great goblin demanded as he slid down from his litter and waddled forward to tower over the crouched figure.

The aged messenger cackled and poked a bony finger into the goblin king’s protruding stomach. <You think you can intimidate me by lugging your girth around? You should focus your efforts elsewhere. The master grows impatient with all his lieutenants’ failures.>

“Then get out of my way so that I may continue with my quest,” the goblin king sneered.

The orc screeched at him. <The Dark Lord himself instructed me to deliver new orders. The Defiler is recovered enough to pick up the stars’ trail. He alone found them, after all. And _his_ lieutenant brought home a shiny Babylon candle to aid him in _his_ mission. > Again he jabbed the great goblin’s stomach. < _You_ are to report to the holding cells and monitor the treatment of our prisoners. >

The goblin king scowled and shoved the old orc aside as he waddled toward the stairway to the dungeon. “Fine. If that’s what the Dark Lord commands, that is what I shall have to do. It’s not my fault his favored pets get all the fun assignments. I always preferred shattering bones anyways to hours of pointless tracking.”

<Pointless>” the old orc hissed. <If you call our master’s revival pointless one more time, he’ll appoint a new leader of the goblins when he rises.>

The goblin king guffawed. “Preposterous! Who else will take the bone crown? You?" 

<I’d watch my back if I were you,> the old orc jeered as the great goblin disappeared into the heart of the fortress. <If you manage your dungeon duties well enough, perhaps the Dark Lord will permit you to handle the stars as well before he gets to them.>

 

* * *

 

The first thing Bilbo noticed when he awakened was the sound of the bustling square outside the inn. In fact, as he wrinkled his nose, he could tell that the voice that jarred him out of what was quite honestly the best sleep he’d had in months was still shouting. The second thing he noticed was exactly what the voice was shouting about. “ _Get him! He’ll escape if we don’t hurry! You there, fetch the guard!”_

Bilbo began to panic in his groggy state as he registered the thick arm slung over his side. ‘They know!’ he thought, frantic as he fumbled with the sheets and wiggled out from Thorin’s grasp. Amazingly, his companion only grumbled and rolled over, still asleep, as Bilbo tripped and nearly fell flat on his face once he finally extricated himself from the tangled blankets.

The clamor outside was approaching the inn, and Bilbo’s pulse quickened as he desperately scanned the room. ‘My trousers… where have I left them? Why can’t I find them? They were RIGHT HERE!!’

“ _THIEF! Bring back my wife’s purse!”_

Bilbo paused in his search and peered at the window. ‘Wait… they’re not after… me?’ He tiptoed over to the curtains, pulling the edge forward just enough to peek out at the scene below. Butterbur was scowling as he held a scrawny youth by the back of his jacket, whose feet flailed as he tried to connect with his captor’s knees. ‘So, that must be the thief.’ As he watched further, one of the town watchmen approached and retrieved the stolen purse from his clutches and returned it to the crying woman who was clearly its rightful owner.

Bilbo sighed in relief and slid down the wall, laughing weakly as he clutched his head in his hands. ‘And here I thought they were after me… the so-called horrific monster…’ He remembered the last time a hobbit was ridiculed for exploring his desires. His own mother attempted to arrange a hasty marriage with one of the younger Chubb girls to save face, but eventually the streets echoed with vicious gossip every time he left home. Ostracized by his most loyal friends, conveniently forgotten by his lover, and disinherited by his father, he fled to the Old Forest, where nobody heard from him again.

Bilbo watched Thorin’s back rise and fall as he breathed deeply in his sleep. ‘No. I refuse to believe my feelings are illegitimate. But… I can’t be caught and let mother be driven out with me. But I can’t leave Thorin. Not now that we’ve… oh, what to do!’

Bilbo scuffed his heel along the floorboards as he thought and paused when he felt his toes brush against one of his suspenders. ‘Ah ha! There you are, you little traitors!’ He crawled forward to drag his trousers out from under the small table next to the bed.  He sighed as he quietly shook the wrinkles out. ‘I can’t keep living like this. This constant fear of discovery, of judgement, of resentment… it has to end. Love is stressful enough without having to worry about the feelings of the third parties.’

As he got dressed, a sudden understanding dawned on him. ‘If I can’t be with Thorin in Hobbiton, perhaps Bag End can no longer be my home. The move will be hard on me. I don’t think I’ve ever been away long, but… it’s for the best.’ He nodded once as he fiddled with the elven dagger strapped to the side of his pack, resolve building within him. ‘But first. I must deal with Lobelia. She was a reasonable woman once, perhaps I can appeal to her somehow.’

Bilbo recalled to his last encounter with her. “ _Bilbo. Last night, a star fell beyond the wall. I want YOU to go find it, retrieve it, and bring it to ME_.”

She still thought the fallen stars were nothing more than valuable metals. ‘If only I could show her they were so much more… but then she wouldn’t get her profit from selling the rare mithril.’ Bilbo huffed and tapped his foot, pinching the bridge of his nose. ‘Bringing them along would likely be a poor decision as well. I will need careful tact and charm, which Thorin doesn’t exactly have in high abundance… perhaps Fíli? If I could separate him from Kíli, that could work. No, best to just go it alone. But I’ll need proof I’ve indeed reached the stars?’

Bilbo looked over at Thorin’s still-glowing body and slowly unsheathed the elven dagger. “A Baggins is as cunning as he is kind,” he mumbled as he approached the bedside. “I know you’re proud of your magnificent locks, but I have need of some shiny hair. Don’t worry, Thorin. I’ll just take this little bit from the back. You’ll hardly miss it.” With barely a sound, he slipped the blade under Thorin’s hair and cut off a small portion in a single stroke. Thorin stirred, but didn’t awaken yet. Bilbo gently wrapped the sparkling lock in a clean napkin left over from the previous night’s dinner and tucked it carefully into his waistcoat pocket.

“I’m doing this for us, Thorin,” Bilbo whispered before placing a soft kiss upon his cheek. “I’ll see you before the end of the day. Follow me to the Wall.”

Without another word, he shouldered his pack and snuck out of the room. Before leaving, however, he stopped at Butterbur’s desk. “Ah! Master dwarf. Had a good night, did you?” Butterbur winked at Bilbo.

“Yes,” Bilbo smiled and then noticed the knowing grin Butterbur wore. “I mean, no! That is… I… we… was it really that obvious?” Bilbo felt his cheeks and ears reddening.

“HA! HA HA! Is an Oliphant in your in-laws’ parlor obvious?” Butterbur clutched his stomach as he continued to laugh. “Oh, don’t worry. Just be sure to clean up after yourselves, if you catch my meaning!” He wiped away tears of mirth as Bilbo turned beet red and continued to get worked up. “No harm done, right? I run an inn – it’s not like this kind of thing doesn’t happen fairly often. Anyways, what can I do for you this lovely morning?”

Bilbo cleared his throat. “My companions and I will be leaving in a few hours. In fact, I’m headed out now to visit with my kin. Can I give you a message for Thorin and the boys?”

“Of course!” Butterbur fetched a writing pad from a drawer. “If you’ll just leave it here so I don’t forget, I’ll let them know as soon as they come down, as well.”

“Thank you.” Bilbo took the pad and scribbled a hasty note. “And, uh, good morning.”

“Farewell, Baggins!” Butterbur waved as Bilbo exited the Prancing Pony. “May your travels be swift and free of brigands!" 

Bilbo deftly wove through the bustling crowd and out the market gate. Immediately he spied a crossroad with a signpost. He took a deep breath, then approached it. “According to this, the Wall is only an hour or so in that direction.” Bilbo hitched his pack higher as he turned to the correct road. “All right, Lobelia Sackville-Baggins. I’ve completed your mission. Now you better hold up your end of the deal, and I will be completely out of your hair. But first, I must tell mother about my Blue Dwarves.”

 

* * *

 

Thorin yawned and stretched his shoulders, cracking them to remove all the tightness. He smiled and shone brightly as he wiggled his toes. “Oh, Bilbo. Can you believe it?” he mumbled. “Last night was a blessing. I actually stayed asleep the entire time for the first night ever. What would Dís say?” he chuckled. “I can hear her now. ‘Adad would surely drag your lazy rear out of bed for sleeping all night. At least you’re still glowing.’”

Bilbo didn’t respond. Thorin frowned slightly and rolled over. “Bilbo?” A wolfish grin replaced his confusion as he looked around further. “So it’s to be hide and seek, is it? I’ll find you, ghivashel.” He checked every cranny of that little room, but there was no sign of his hobbit. ‘Perhaps he’s gone to get breakfast before we venture forth to Hobbiton,’ he thought with a disappointed sigh. ‘I should wake the boys.’

As he dressed, Thorin noticed that Bilbo’s pack was also missing. His eyes narrowed as he stared at the vacant spot of floor. ‘Now why would he pack up and leave just for food?’ He frowned and shook his head. ‘Perhaps he’s only taken it to get some snacks for the road.’

“Good day, Uncle,” Fíli greeted as Thorin entered the binaries’ room. “It’s been quite busy in the town since everyone woke up and began their day.”

“Has it? Kíli, get off that windowsill and put your boots on. We’re getting breakfast before we leave. Tell me, then. What have you two observed of the daily lives of men?”

Kíli grabbed his boots and perched on the bed to lace them. “It takes an hour, sometimes more, to set up the stands each day. It all depends upon the wares, of course. Less for food stands, more for delicate trinkets. The bins of those little squat birds are particularly a hassle for the apprentices. Anyways, sometimes people show up before the merchants are fully prepared for them.”

Thorin nodded. “So there are more stalls behind the inn? I suspect some of the early shoppers are in the cooking business and would like to select the finest ingredients to use before the households snatch them up. And you, Fíli?”

Fíli focused on straightening his braid as he spoke. “A man was apprehended for thievery. That’s not so surprising, though. I’ve watched the world long enough to know it happens more in cities than the countryside. He tried to escape around the other side, but I suspect the guards caught up to him because everything calmed down shortly after.”

Kíli grabbed his pack and tossed the second one to his brother, who effortlessly plucked it from the air. “Shall we follow Bilbo now, Uncle?”

Thorin blinked. “What?”

“He left some time ago,” Fíli replied. “If we run, we can probably catch up before he reaches the Wall."

Thorin leapt to his feet and clutched Fíli’s shoulders. “Are you certain? Why didn’t you wake me?”

Kíli shrugged. “You were still asleep. We were about to wake you, for the record.”

“Come. We have no time to lose. Why would he leave without us? It makes no sense,” Thorin grumbled as they entered the hall.

Fíli and Kíli followed him into his room. “Beats me,” Fíli said as he helped Thorin gather stray bits of gear.

“Maybe he’s gone ahead to warn his mother about us,” Kíli added. “After all, he did say she wasn’t in the best of health. Remember how Óin reacted when he saw us, Fí? Poor fellow had a terrible fit. Can you imagine if we showed up, all sparkling as stars do, and she panicked like that? I’d be concerned about worsening her condition if I were Uncle Bilbo.”

Thorin ruffled his nephew’s hair as he slung his pack into place. “You’re probably right.” He glanced at Kíli curiously. “Uncle Bilbo?”

“Oh, well I assumed we could go ahead and call him that, now that you two have… you know…” He made a rude gesture.

Thorin blushed deeply and half heartedly swatted Kíli’s forehead. “ _That_ is none of your business. Come. Let us see if he’s left a message with the innkeeper. He didn’t say anything to me when he left, nor did he leave a note here. Something must have happened this morning.”

“Or,” Fíli pointed out as they entered the hall for the last time, “he’s worried he won’t reach Hobbiton in time. This is the last day of his time allowance for his quest, after all. If I were panicked, I’d probably rather not wait for Kí to get up and dressed.”

“Excuse you,” Kíli interjected, false hurt all over his face. “Who’s the one who takes an hour going ‘five more minutes?’” he asked with an exaggerated whine.

Fíli shoved his brother’s shoulder, knocking him into the wall. “You’re not exactly an evening star either!”

“Hush,” Thorin commanded as they reached the desk. Butterbur was out of sight. Thorin huffed with impatience with a bit more force than was necessary. ‘Why would he abandon us now… he’s always insisted we stay together for safety. He’d better explain himself,’ he wondered, fingers drumming on the desktop.

The portly innkeeper arrived in short time. “Ah! Master Thorin. Baggins left you a message when he checked out earlier this morning. I was hoping you’d awaken soon.”

Fíli and Kíli leaned over the desk. “What did he say?” they asked in unison, voices heavy with anticipation.

“Hold on, I’ve put the note somewhere.” He shuffled papers for a moment. “Here it – ah. Oh dear, this won’t do.”

“What is it?” Thorin pushed Fíli aside and peered over Kíli’s shoulder. A small, red handprint in something that was once sticky had smudged Bilbo’s hastily scrawled writing.

Butterbur’s hand shook as he gradually turned deep purple. “Excuse me for a moment,” his tone was low and smooth. He waddled to the side door. “BARLEY! Get in here, boy!”

Not half a minute later, the small child shuffled through and studied the floor between his feet intently. “Yes, father?” he squeaked, voice meek and laden with shame.

Butterbur crouched low to be at eye level with his son. “What have I said about climbing the front desk?”

“Not to do it when there’s customers.” His eyes snapped up and he leaned forward defiantly. “But there weren’t none when I was checking the resver… the reser… the rervations!”

Butterbur sighed. “No, lad. Before that. Last week, what did I say?”

Barley hid his hands behind his back and rocked as he thought. “Don’t… do it during breakfast…” he mumbled eventually.

Butterbur nodded. “Yes, that’s the one. And what happened to daddy’s note this morning?” He displayed the ruined note before the child.

“I got jam on it,” Barliman whispered. He shuffled up to Thorin, Fíli, and Kíli. “I’m very sorry, sirs. For messing up your friend’s message.”

Butterbur sighed. “Okay. At least you confessed, and you apologized to my guests. There’s a good lad. Now, I want you to clean the stables with old Hoggins. Maybe next time you’ll remember clean hands at all times on the desk. Now, away with you.”

“Yes, father.” The sullen boy retreated out the front door, dragging his feet and kicking at dust bunnies.

Butterbur returned to the desk and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Now then. Terribly sorry about that. You know how little ones are, I imagine.”

Thorin nodded. “Those two weren’t much different at that age. Seemed to last for an age, too.   Is anything recoverable of Bilbo’s words?”

“Hmm… let’s see,” Butterbur gently dabbed at the note with his hand towel to avoid any more smears. Then he squinted at the paper. “Here’s a bit I can yet decipher.” He cleared his throat. “He says, ‘I’m off to the Shire… tell her about my Blue Dwarves… sorry but I’m going to my true home.’ And the rest has been destroyed. My apologies, once again.”

Thorin’s jaw dropped, then he shut it with a click an glared down at the paper, as if trying to burn it to ash with his gaze alone. “That little…” Kíli placed a calming hand on is forearm as he looked at he older star in concern. Thorin redirected his glare at it, then closed his eyes and made a visible effort to contain himself. Taking a deep breath, he focused back on Butterbur. “Thank you for your hospitality. If ever we were to come this way in the future, I hope to stay here again. We’ll most assuredly stop by for some more of your wife’s excellent cooking. Good day.”

After he stormed outside Thorin huffed at Fíli. “Did you hear that? The blaggard has gone and sold us off to Lobelia. Of course he was never sincere. He just wanted a romp and a safe journey home. He saw us as capable fighters and guards to get through the bulk of the journey, and then he tossed my heart aside into the gutter as he skipped on home. We were fools to actually think he cared for us!” He sent a slop bucket flying down the closest alley with a well-placed kick and surged off toward Bree’s gate. “I guard my heart with honor until now, and this is how he repays me? Like some weeping whore off the street? No. I won’t stand for it!”

“Wait! Uncle!” Fíli called and jogged behind him. “I think you’re being a bit too rash with his. The Bilbo we know would have left more explanation! And I’m sure he did. You’re just misinterpreting-“

“AND YOU’RE BEING NAÏVE!” Thorin roared back. “I’m the one with the experience. I’m the one who’s watched centuries of mortals. And I’m the one who’s going to give that little traitor a piece of my mind before he sells us out to that witch. They were probably in league this whole time!” If the crooked sign at the corner of the road were a person, it would have trembled under Thorin’s fury as he skimmed its information. A moment later, he set off down the road at full charge.

Fíli quickly looked around for anything familiar, and his gaze landed on a familiar bright orange wagon. “Gimonul is still here! Let’s see if we can borrow a ride once more.”

“Right!” Kíli sprinted over. “Gí! We need help!” he shouted as he neared the wagon.

“Woah, lads! Slow down before yeh spook the horses. What’s happened?”

“It’s Bilbo!” Fíli breathed.

“And Thorin!” Kíli puffed.

“Uncle’s following him to the Wall, and I think he may strangle him for disappearing without so much as a goodbye.”

Gimonul sighed and locked the wagon door. “I need t’ teach that boy some manners, it seems. Climb on up, yeh two!” He leapt to the driver’s box. “We have to follow them! Yer uncle cannot cross the Wall. If he does, he’ll turn t’ pure metal!”

Fíli’s eyes met Kíli’s, filled with alarm. “Well why didn’t you tell us that yesterday! Let’s go!”

“Right away!” Gimonul cracked the reins, setting the horses into an immediate gallop. A startled cry followed by the clatter of breaking pottery and a string of nasally curses sounded form the interior.

Gollum snarled and struggled to unlock the door. “Foolish dwarf! It tried to kill us!”

“He can’t actually get out, can he?” Kíli watched the door, worriedly.

“Not a chance,” Gimonul winked. “It’s one o’ my locks. Made it meself. ‘E’d ‘ave to break the door apart! Which’ll take ‘im years to do with those scrawny arms. If we’re lucky, ‘e’ll be too upset to realize the window is unlocked. ‘E’s a good climber, but the two of yeh should be safe, since ‘e can’t see yeh.”

“Yes, but what about you?” Fíli asked as he leaned over to watch the side window carefully. 

Gimonul stared ahead at the road grimly. “Don’t worry ‘bout little old me. We’ve got a star to catch!”

 

* * *

 

Sounds of carpentry filled the lane. “Good day, Mr. Proudfoot! I see you’ve finished your archway before your anniversary. The Mrs. will be quite pleased, I’m sure.” Mr. Proudfoot tipped his hat in greeting as Bilbo continued his search for Lobelia Sackville-Baggins.

A few paces down, a savory aroma wafted past. “Mrs. Grubb, your goose pies smell as delectable as ever. Might I stop by to purchase one from you after teatime?”

“Of course, Bilbo.” Mrs. Grubb smiled warmly at him as she leaned out her kitchen window. “I’ve baked an extra one for your mum, too! Poor thing… she’s missed you dearly. Where have you been all this time?”

“I was out searching for a fallen star for Lobelia. You haven’t seen her by any chance?” Bilbo began fiddling with the corner of his jacket. “We have urgent business to discuss.”

Mrs. Grubb thought for a moment. “Can’t say that I have. She may be down at the market, this time of day. Perhaps you can find her there.”

Bilbo nodded twice. “I see. Thank you for the tip. I’ll likely stop by later for those pies. Good day!”

Bilbo jogged off toward the center of Hobbiton. “Confound it, Lobelia! Of course you had to make this as difficult as possible,” he grumbled under his breath. “Why can’t you be right by the Wall waiting?”

He skidded around a corner and bowled right into Mrs. Longbottom, sending yards of newly bought linen flying into the shrubs. “Oh, I’m so sorry! Here, let me help you gather these.”

“Bilbo Baggins! You know well enough to watch where you’re going. What’s got you in such a rush, hm?” She dusted off her skirts and retrieved the cloth from him. “What’s the matter – goblins on your tail?”

“Well, actually… no. No, no goblins here. I have a deadline with Lobelia, and I can’t seem to find her. Would you happen to know where she is?”

“She’s having tea with your mother. Brought her hideous, great handbag with her,” Mrs. Longbottom began to walk home.

Bilbo groaned. “It’s not the one with the lilac and mauve handles, is it?”

“Yes, that’s the one!” she said over her shoulder. “You aren’t moving, are you? Are you selling Bag End?”

“Selling? What?! No. I’m in no mind to do anything of the sort. Excuse me, I have to go now.” Bilbo sprinted down the lane. ‘That woman! I knew she had no faith in my return,’ he thought as he began to wheeze. ‘Sell Bag End… and to the Sackville-Bagginses, no less? Pah!’

He ran up the hill, between his neighbor’s smials, right up to the front of his home. In two seconds time, he’d wiped his feet on the entry rug and burst through the round, green door. “Lobelia!” he panted. “I’m back, and will you put my spoons down… now!”

“Bilbo!” his mother and Lobelia said at once, one pleased and the other completely flabbergasted.

Bilbo rolled his eyes at the musical clatter of silver hitting the hardwood floor. “Mother, I have some guests that will be arriving shortly. Would you kindly put on some extra tea for them?”

“Of course, my dear,” Belladonna said with a soft smile. “How many will there be?”

“Three, but they’ll no doubt be hungry. Better to make enough for six.”

Lobelia scowled and crossed her arms. “So you’ve found it, then? Are these three some fellows you’ve hired to transport my star?”

Bilbo took in a deep breath threw his nose and shot her a practiced smile. “Not entirely, no. You see…” he fished his handkerchief out of his pocket and held it toward her. “They _are_ stars.”

Lobelia laughed as she took the handkerchief from him and tugged at the knot. “Clearly your adventure has addled your brains. They? Are stars? Hah! That’s preposterous. Everybody knows stars are mithril, not people. What’s in here, anyways?”

Bilbo sat down and poured himself a cup of tea. “I was a bit surprised, too, when I first met Thorin. That’s evidence of his stardom. It was still shining when I was just outside the Wall.”

Lobelia finally finished undoing the knot and flipped the corners over. “Is this some kind of joke?” she scoffed. “Why this is nothing more than a bunch of mithril dust. Hardly anything can be done with it! Is this all you have?”

Bilbo snorted his tea. “What?!? Dust… are you sure?” He set the delicate cup down with a clang on its saucer and rushed over and took the handkerchief from her. The lock of Thorin’s hair was no longer there. It had been replaced with shimmering, silver powder, as if it had never been there at all. “He can’t cross the Wall,” he whispered with horror.

“I didn’t catch that. What?” Lobelia leaned in.

“Thorin. Fíli and Kíli. They can’t cross the wall.” He shoved the handkerchief into Lobelia’s handbag and ran through the front door, then popped his head back in. “Lobelia, I’ll be back in a moment. Mother, _do not_ sell Bag End to her, no matter what she may threaten you with. I will explain everything when I return. 

Bilbo prayed as he sprinted, ‘Please, Yavannah. Give flight to my feet. Let them have slept in. Let it not be too late. I’ll never forgive myself if I’ve led them all this way only to send them to their deaths. I’ll be sincerely nice to the Sackville-Bagginses for the rest of my life. Just let me make it to the Wall in time.’

 

* * *

 

Azog flexed his newly healed arm and leered into the darkness of Dol Guldur. <Light the Babylon candle.>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My little sister is now married! Planning became a lot trickier when her maid of honor started no-showing to everything, despite being local. So, essentially, I got slammed with what used to be her duties. Decorations take a lot longer to make than you think they will. But! It was a beautiful wedding, so all that work was worth it.
> 
> Needless drama at work makes me too tired to do much outside of work than relax when possible. But I'll miss my lab, now that I'm not working anymore, because....
> 
> I got accepted to medical school! It's hard finding an affordable apartment in a capital city district that's not in a crime pocket, but clearly not impossible :) Orientation starts in a week.
> 
> And, most exciting of all, I am now engaged to my own ghivashel <3 he's been the best at supporting me through all of this.


	21. Beads and Brew

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: drugging and violence

Kháris sat in the shade beneath a tree just on the outskirts of Bree, one whose branches overhung several houses. She had managed to elude Blacklock’s spies thus far; being trained with many of them had imparted a certain knowledge of all the tricks of the trade. Surely they knew of her betrayal that had ultimately led to the failure of his attempt to capture the Ered Luin. Likely there was already a mark on her head, which certainly wouldn’t help her mission to locate her sister, Dháris.

She took a deep breath. ‘Time may be running out for her,’ she thought. ‘It’s possible that Hadudul has already informed her overseers that I am no longer loyal and that she may be disposed of at the earliest convenience. With luck, the quest for the Arkenstone and the Blue Dwarves has fully occupied his goals and she has been forgotten. But I can’t bet on that with much conviction. Best to risk it and enter the city as soon as possible.’

Kháris climbed up her tree and dropped carefully onto the roof. With barely a clatter, she made her way toward the narrower streets in the city’s interior. There, she hoped to find one of Nori’s informants to question about Dháris. Doubtless she wouldn’t recognize them by face, but if she left a parchment with his signature seal – she’d nicked one of his signature beads long ago – and a time, she could return to meet one.

Kháris climbed into the shaded box of an old watch tower, likely abandoned when the walls of the city bulged beyond its effective range. Here, she could carefully scan the city while also keeping a watchful eye out for any pursuers. There – a dyer’s cottage, easier to spot than a cartographer’s station and just as likely to have some extra ink conveniently lying about.

With a furtive look around, Kháris hopped back onto the roof below and scurried over to the little house. She threaded Nori’s old bead onto a wire, which she then bent into a hook. She smirked as she discovered a convenient ledge just over a vat of dye in the alley behind the cottage. Lying on her belly, she pulled out a small square of paper as she waited until the dyer’s humming had moved out of earshot. Then she smoothly lowered the wire into the purple liquid and pulled it up again.

Kháris grinned at her success as she swiftly rolled the bead across the top of her paper and scribbled “11 bells, pace thrice” beneath it. She blew on it briefly to allow the marks to dry before pocketing it. Back up she went, and she pushed on toward the center of Bree. A few minutes later, she came across a tavern by the name of “The Brazen Boar.” From earlier travels in the city, she knew it to be a hub of illicit trade and covert messages. If there were a single good place to find an informant, this was it.

She climbed down onto a dilapidated balcony, careful not to break through any rotting boards. As a barmaid exited the side door with the breakfast scraps, Kháris pinned her note to one of her throwing daggers and sent it into the tavern’s wall, then moved quickly into the room behind her where she could watch out the window. Dust billowed up from the floor, and she buried her nose in the crook of her elbow to stifle her ensuing sneeze.

The barmaid jumped at the thump in the wood next to her and her hand shot up to her heart.   She looked at the dagger, then shot a wild glance around the alleys. Kháris held her breath as the woman noticed the dust still seeping down the wall and squinted up toward the old window. Kháris dared not wipe the sweat from her brow and desperately hoped the mold and dust covering the glass would obscure her enough. The woman didn’t detect her and turned back to the dagger. With a sharp tug, the note came free and after a brief glance at its contents, she vanished inside.

‘With luck she’ll know someone to take that to,’ Kháris thought as she waited at her window. She watched until the market bells tolled out the end of the morning sales. As the eleventh chime echoed down the street, a dwarf with silver hair shuffled out to the dagger that was still buried in the building’s siding. She leaned forward and waited for him to walk back and forth across the square three times before exiting her nook and lowering herself to the ground.

He acknowledged her with a sideways glance. “I take it you’re the one to leave this?” he gestured casually toward the dagger with his elbow.

Kháris stood beneath the balcony and nodded. “I take it you’re the one to read the note it held.”

“Why not come out into the afternoon light?” he asked. “I am old and cannot see you well in the shadows, Kháris Adderdart.” He waved a hand so his robe wafted open enough for her to observe his hidden hand crossbow.

Kháris’s features didn’t slip. “So you recognize me, then? You are wise to be wary, given my background, but I have no intention of harming you. I will stay where I am. I only wish to ask a question.”

The old dwarf snorted. “So you can deliver information to the black prince?” He shook his head. “No. I would not do that, even though you used to be one of Nori’s finest apprentices.”

“I see you haven’t heard yet,” Kháris sighed. “Blacklock and I had a bit of a falling out a few days ago. I failed his order to assassinate Nori, among others, and he labeled me a traitor. You know as well as I the extent of his spy network, and no doubt they are keeping an eye open to capture me for a bounty or worse. That being the case, I will remain here where they are less likely to see me.”

The old dwarf rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Is that so? If you failed, then, how came you by one of Nori’s signet beads? He always kept them on his person.”

Kháris straightened proudly and smirked. “I nicked it off of him during a stealth training exercise. No doubt he knows it’s missing by now, but he’s made no effort to retrieve it from me.”

The old dwarf chuckled. “And how, lass, do I know you didn’t carry out your mission and swiped it from his dead body?”

Kháris put her hand in her breast pocket, and the old dwarf instantly pulled a knife from his sleeve. She removed her hand and held both in front of her, palms up and fingers splayed. “Peace, I am only retrieving an object to prove my words.”

“One can never be too careful,” the old dwarf grunted. “Continue. But know that I am watching you closely.” He pulled back the crank to lock a bolt into place.

Kháris nodded. “I thought this would be the case.” She retrieved Nori’s ring from the pocket and held it up in plain sight. “I spoke with Nori, and he gave me this to show to the informant I spoke with to demonstrate the truth of my words.” She tossed the ring gently across the square. “I trust you recognize it?”

The informant fumbled with the crossbow as he caught the ring. “Aye,” he mumbled as he scrutinized its surface. “This is his signet ring, is it not?”

“It is. And knowing this, you would also know he kept it inside a rigged box that none but he could open lest it implode with a heat great enough to damage its metal contents. The only way for me to come by it would be for him to part with it willingly. Clearly he trusts me enough for this.”

The informant considered the ring for a moment more, then pocketed it. “I think I’ll keep this until I can give it back to him when he’s in the area next. But you have my voice, Kháris. What would you like to know?”

“One thing, only. Some months ago, Blacklock had my sister, Dháris, captured and held hostage as blackmail for my obedience. Now that I am unquestionably disloyal to him, it’s only a matter of time before he orders her termination as an example. Normally I would expect he would wait for my capture so I would be forced to watch before my own execution, but his quest for the crown is failing and suddenly his right hand has betrayed him. If he is not so absorbed in locating the Arkenstone - Mahal let him be profoundly occupied with it - he would more likely publicly kill her just to draw me out. Do you know where I may find her so that I may extricate her?”

The old dwarf finally lowered his hand crossbow. “Thick are the ties of one’s kin. I believe you, Kháris. I can hear the sincerity in your voice and see the desperation in your eyes that you still try to hide. I will tell you what I know.”

Kháris stepped forward and shook his hand. “So you do know of her location?”

“Perhaps. New information hasn’t arrived in a few weeks’ time, but last I heard, she was being kept at Dol Guldur.”

Kháris groaned. “The fortress of the orcs?”

The informant nodded. “That’d be the place. Ill-bred, forsaken pit, if you ask me. Be on your guard as you approach it – like you said, he may be trying to draw you out. It’s entirely possible he’s sent a raven to the dark creatures bearing a message to increase the guard around Dháris in the hopes of capturing you during a rescue attempt. Such an endeavor may take both of your lives.”

Kháris removed her dagger from the tavern’s wall and retrieved some gold coins as she returned it to its sheath. “Our lives are already forfeit. Thank you,” she murmured sadly as she pressed the money into his palm. “I will keep your concern in mind, but I must try.”

The old dwarf flipped the coins deftly across his knuckles. “I don’t suppose you would care to be the hand of justice should you freely cross paths with Blacklock again? You’re already a traitor of the state, as it is.”

“If Dháris yet lives, it would be a while before I can see her to safety enough to pursue the dark prince. If nothing else, I would have evidence of his dealings with orcs and the council may actually pluck up enough courage to arrest him.” Kháris paused and smiled wickedly. “If all breath has left her body when I find her, consider him my top target. The only other retribution hotter than my own would be that of a woman scorned. I have preparations to make.” She turned to depart from the square.

The old dwarf laid a hand on her shoulder. “I wish you success, Adderdart. May one less soul perish to the dark prince’s cruel grasp. Valar speed your journey.”

Kháris gave his forearm a firm pat before climbing back up to the rooftop. She worked her way swiftly toward the market square. As she picked her way over the buildings, she thought about an encounter with some rowdy men during a bar fight years ago. One had thrown a pitcher of home brew in a drunken rage, and it passed widely to the side of his target and into the pub’s fire. The resulting explosion had created a miasma strong enough to put everyone in the room into a deep slumber for hours. Needless to say, she’d seized the opportunity to rid the brigands of their loose change. Much as she wished to keep it, though, she gave it to the tavern owner for repairs. It just wouldn’t do to lose her favorite drinking hole because of such an accident!

Now, a whole fortress might be a stretch for a similar trick, but anyone with decent brains knew Dol Goldur nestled upon a volcanic outlet, judging by the immense sulfuric stench constantly rising from it. If she could somehow acquire an entire wagon load of any strong spirits, she just might incapacitate many of the orcs and goblins and then clear a path to the dungeons.

“ _Never try to outdrink a merchant, hey boyo? Especially them what boast about the strength of their own stock. Chances are, they know their stuff!”_

Kháris stopped and crept closer to the edge of her current perch and peered down at the streets. A man drug his inebriated friend out of the square. “Hello, beautiful,” she whispered as she spied the multitude of hefty barrels displayed on a cart just across the square. ‘So, someone’s holding a drinking contest,’ she thought as she scanned the crowd. A ruddy-faced man seated before the kegs leaned back behind his table, muddy boots up and hands crossed over his extended pot belly, smiling in satisfaction as he counted his coins. Given his location and the richer state of his attire, she guessed he’d be the merchant in question.

‘Child’s play,’ Kháris thought, grinning at her luck. She sifted through her pouch of sleeping draught and selected a moderate sedative, fixing it to a loop just inside her left sleeve. She quietly dropped down into a side alley and then sauntered over to the merchant. “Oi! I hear you can outdrink any man. But have you ever happened to try your stamina against a dwarrowdam champion of her clan?”

The merchant looked her up and down, scoffing, “A scrawny lightweight such as you? Pah! Don’t make me laugh. I’ve never met anyone I couldn’t drink under the table, ‘cept my own brother! What’s your wager?”

Kháris casually sat in the chair across the table and grinned. “My own brother, Nohr, happens to produce the strongest whiskey beneath the iron hills. If you can best me, I’ll give you a year’s supply of his goods. But! IF I win… you give me this load here. Sound fair?”

The merchant’s jaw dropped. “Nohr, you say? The one who makes the fire draught?”

“Oh! So you _do_ know him?” Kháris leaned forward across the table. “Yes, the very same.”

“That’ll fetch me a pretty penny with full profit…” the merchant rubbed his chin. “All right, milady. You sit tight there, and we’ll begin our contest!” He grabbed two tankards from a chest beside him and filled them from the nearest keg. “No breaks, no falling asleep, and no regurgitation!” He winked at a nearby guard, who huffed and shook his head. “May the best man win.”

“One moment, good sir, if I may!” Kháris reached out to grab his wrist across his tankard. Unbeknownst to him, she also flicked the top off the hidden vial to empty its contents into his drink. “I’d like a witness to my victory. Do you happen to have an assistant handy to document the occasion?”

“No assistants necessary in a crowded such as this! You, there. Ironhead.” The guard glared at the merchant and leaned casually against the wall. “Yes, you, watch me win another match, so you can tell the lady what’s happened when she’s sober again. Been a while since I’ve bested a dwarf, miss. But I assure you, I won’t lose!”

Kháris smiled sweetly. “We’ll see about that.” She lifted her tankard and clacked it against his. “Bottoms up!” She guzzled the golden liquid none too daintily and set the empty tankard down with a solid thunk. ‘Oh, that’s nice! It’ll be a shame to lose it all to the fires of Dol Guldur,’ she mused. ‘Perhaps I’ll keep a bit to celebrate later with Dháris. Though she won’t be pleased with my means of acquiring it… desperate times, sis.’ She caught the merchant eyeing her confidently and she purposefully swayed a little. “That goes straight to your head, doesn’t it?” she said breathily.

The merchant guffawed before taking a long swig. “What did I tell you? Short stuff can’t hold her liquor as well as the likes of me.” He brought his drink up again and leaned far back, unaware of the draught taking hold as he chugged it down. In seconds, his chair tipped back and dumped him limply against the chest, sound asleep in the puddle of remaining grog.

The guard straightened and watched him fall in disbelief. “You!” He gazed at Kháris in awe. “You just beat Morlyn at his own game! I s’pose he finally outdid himself. Go ahead, I’ll make sure nobody robs him blind before I douse him with a bucket.” He waved her toward the driver’s box atop the cart.

Kháris shrugged and turned to remove the blocks of wood from around its wheels. “He shouldn’t have started before evening. Tell him next time he drinks against a dwarf to be sure to start sober. We’re a stout and hardy folk, after all.” She climbed up and flicked the reins at the ponies before saluting the guard. “Have a good day!”

She smiled triumphantly as she rode out of Bree. “I’m coming, Dháris. Just hold out a few more hours.”

 

* * *

 

Thorin charged down the dusty road, picking up speed as the road began to dip down and twist toward an ancient-looking stone wall. “Good,” he huffed through gritted teeth. “Maybe I’ll catch the little weasel before he sells us out.” He blocked out the shouts of his nephews and Gimonul as the gaudy wagon bounced along behind him. He could see a gap in the stones just ahead… just a few more paces and…

The wagon cut him off as it veered around and tipped over, tossing Fíli, Kíli, and Gimonul from the front. It skidded and lodged itself sideways in the Wall’s opening. The poor ponies dragged a little with it before their harnesses broke with a snap, they regained their footing, and bolted. Thorin had to twist awkwardly to change direction mid-sprint to avoid colliding with the still-spinning wheels. He glared at the wreckage in his way and began to climb it.

“Oh no yeh don’t!” Gimonul grabbed Thorin’s boot and gave a sharp tug. “Yeh’ll kill yerself if yeh cross that threshold!”

Thorin would have been pulled off of the wagon were it not for his hold on the little side window. “Nonsense! I can handle myself against the halflings should they try to subdue and capture me! Just let me go!”

“Boys, a little help, if yeh would,” Gimonul pleaded. He tightened his grip on Thorin’s boot as Fíli grabbed his waist and Kíli grabbed Fíli’s. The three pulled with all their might, and with a grating _pop!_ the window broke free from its hinge and brought all four dwarves down in a writhing pile in the middle of the road.

Thorin growled and stood up and tried to move again, but Kíli latched onto his boot and held him back. “Unhand me this instant!”

“No!”

Thorin’s brow furrowed, casting his eyes into shadow. “Kíli…” he growled dangerously.

“I WON’T LOSE YOU, TOO, UNCLE!”

Thorin paused and took in a deep breath. “Wait, what…”

Fíli dusted himself off and planted himself between Thorin and the wagon. “Uncle, we can’t survive outside the Wall. This place… Arda… it has a magic in it that apparently no longer exists beyond its borders. Gí warned us that any Blue Dwarves who have wandered across have instantly turned to mithril, only to be scavenged and made into rich artifacts that fell to greedy hands and dark holds. If you follow Bilbo to the Shire… you’ll be next… just like Adad.”

Thorin’s breath caught. “Just like Víli…” He shifted his gaze over to Gimonul. “Is this true? You’re not just making up stories to save your long lost son?”

Gimonul sighed in relief and dusted himself off. “I can assure you, when Bilbo comes back – and he will! – I’m goin’ t’ have a strong talkin’ to him about his message. And I wouldn’t lie about somethin’ as important as this.”

Thorin squinted at him. “You would if you were working with the little traitor.”

Gimonul shook his head with an exasperated sigh. “By my mother’s beard, Thorin! That’s a load of codswallop and yeh know it. Look… if yeh want to test it, toss a wad of yer hair across and see if it doesn’t turn to dust!”

Before Thorin could reply, a hideous screech pierced the air from within the crashed wagon. Gollum shot up and out of the broken window and tackled Gimonul, rolling to a stop and pinning him down in a strangle hold. “Filthy dwarveses being tricksy and escaping!”

Kíli released his hold on Thorin’s foot and scrambled over while Gimonul struggled to remove Gollum’s hands from his neck. He tried to seize the scrawny body and yank him off, but some invisible force stopped him. Instead, he picked up a loose stone from the Wall and hurled it.

The stone collided with Gollum’s ribs and knocked him off, allowing Gimonul to roll over and cough as he sucked the air back into his lungs. “ _AIIIEEEEEE!!!!_ What is it, precious?” Gollum panted, trying to identify the invisible force, for he could see no one in the area save himself and Gimonul.

“ _Gollum! Gollum!_ The thief’s back. He’s come to finish us off!”

Gollum scooted back to some soft grass at the side of the path, keeping an eye on the dust swirls. “We mustn’t let them have it! It belongs to us, yes it does!”

Gollum scanned the ground, and his eyes settled right where Kíli’s feet were. “HE STOLE IT FROM US!!!” Gollum pounced, arms outstretched and grin wicked, waiting to land on…

Kilí flinched, waiting for Gollum’s collision, but absolutely nothing happened. It was almost as if the being had hit the Wall behind Kíli. Fíli had leapt up to assist his brother, but began to laugh as Gollum whirled about on the dirt road between them, eyes wide and buggy.

“Well, Kí, it seems like whatever magics prevented him from seeing us last time are still in place.”

Thorin grabbed Gimonul and pulled him around toward the front of the wagon out of sight, then stuck his head back out to watch Gollum. “Is there no way to be rid of him?”

Gimonul shook his head. “Not that I know of,” he wheezed.   “He won’t leave his stuff behind lightly. No, I’m afraid we’re trapped for now.”

Suddenly the air seemed to be pulled straight up. Gollum stopped his ranting, and looked to the sky in alarm as a bright light appeared. When it became clear that it was roaring down straight for him, Gollum shrieked and scampered off into the bushes.

“Fíli! Kíli, move!” Thorin yelled as the fireball hit the dirt between his nephews and sent a spray of dirt clods out around. When the dust settled, he could hardly believe his eyes. “It’s… not possible…” he breathed.

For standing there with a hideous metal claw outstretched and holding Fíli up by his neck, feet dangling, stood the white orc. A dark chuckle escaped from Azog’s throat. <We meet again, Blue Dwarves. And this time, there aren’t any lily livered elves to save you.>

Thorin stood up slowly as if in a trance, locked eyes with Kíli and tilted his head toward the orc, confusion evident in his every feature as he moved out from beside the wagon uncertainly. “I killed you. Cut off your arm, and you went down, and-“

Azog heard Kíli sneaking behind him and whirled around, slamming Fíli into him. The binaries collapsed on each other, dazed as Fíli’s forehead collided against Kíli’s temple. <Then you should have checked your handiwork, foolish star. It’s true, you cut off my hand, but as you can see,> he held up the warped claw and twisted it to glint wickedly in the sunlight, <this appendage serves me better.> He leered and Thorin and sniffed the air between them. <Ripe with fear. Good. I’d demonstrate on the brats, but the Dark Master wants them in one piece. But you-> Azog roared and charged straight at Thorin, swiping the air wildly with his dangerous prosthetic.

Thorin drew Orcrist just in time to catch his blade between two of the prongs on Azog’s claw and step aside to twist him out of the way. Azog went careening into the wagon as Thorin backed up to stand over his groaning nephews. “Stay down - I’ll handle this.” Azog had gained control of himself and looked at Thorin with intense malice.

Thorin caught sight of Gimonul creeping closer with a broken beam from the wagon’s neck, held before him like a spear. With a nod, the two dwarves ran at the orc at once. ‘We’ve got him,’ Thorin thought triumphantly as he bore down upon his enemy.

But Azog blocked Thorin’s thrust and swung out his fist, connecting solidly with Thorin’s jaw and sending him sprawling just as Gimonul lodged the wood into the back of Azog’s thigh. With an agonized screech, Azog whirled around and slashed him across the chest with his sharp claw, and Gimonul sank to his knees, crying out as he reflexively covered the wound.

<I’ve had it with dwarves!> Azog snarled as he fell onto one knee, bringing his elbow down upon Gimonul’s head. Gimonul, instantly knocked out, slumped sideways and didn’t stir. Azog grunted as he reached down and snapped the beam, leaving part of it still lodged inside his leg.

Thorin sprang back up and swung Orcrist toward Azog’s neck, but the pale orc parried with his claw once again and deflected the blade. Time and again he blocked as Thorin swung Orcrist with both hands. <I can keep this up for hours, weakling!> he sneered, as sweat began to bead on Thorin’s brow. With lightning speed, Azog grasped Thorin’s dominant wrist and twisted.

Thorin cried out as Orcrist fell out of his hands and Azog pulled him near. He glared defiantly as Azog raised his claw, aimed at Thorin’s heart.

<Now… I’m going to carve out your dim little core and keep it… the little ones are plenty for him…>

An eerie howl rang through the air, giving Azog pause. <Bolg… pah! You’re lucky this time! Brighten up, Blue Dwarf… your power will be MINE… but until then… _GGGGRRRRAAAAA!!!!!!_ > Azog whipped his head forward against Thorin’s forehead and dropped him, unconscious, beside Gimonul.

Bolg’s warg loped into sight, followed shortly by another. As the group approached Fíli and Kíli, Bolg called his mount to a stop. He dismounted and tied them up roughly before slinging them across another warg’s back. <What have you done to the older one?> he spat.

Azog grunted as he stood up and limped the vacant wargs. <It doesn’t matter. His heart was broken when I arrived. He is of no use to us.>

<Not anymore!> Bolg gestured widely at the mess. <Your bloodlust is too strong, like a rabid beast’s. These two had better be enough for the Master.>

<THEY WILL BE! Get your hide back to Dol Goldur!> Using his good leg, Azog kicked his warg into a run.

Bolg finished securing Fíli and Kíli and jumped up behind them. With his landing, the warg took off.

The brothers were jostled together with every pace. “Where’re you taking us…?” Fíli slurred as he came to.

“We go to Dol Goldur. Take in these last sights, puny stars, for you’ll never see the light of day nor the brilliance of your night again,” Bolg grunted slowly. It wasn’t often he didn’t use the dark speech, but he didn’t know if the binaries had picked up any of it yet, being as young as they were, and threats were so much more effective if they were understood. “Your ends will be swift but full of pain as he drains the light out of your still-beating hearts.”

Kíli shuddered. “I think I’m going to be sick…”

Bolg laughed cruelly and ordered the warg to run faster. “Go ahead. Lose the contents of your weak stomach. Soon you won’t need them anyway.”

 

 

Gimonul blinked and groaned as first sound, then feeling returned to him. “Oh, this… is not… good,” he mumbled as he slowly sat up. He winced as he opened his eyes and the world spun as he shook his head. “Oh, that was a bad idea… okay, gotta warn… Bilbo… he’s the only one of us who can do anything now.”

He made it three steps beyond the Wall before passing out once again and falling forward into the soft grass of the Shire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaaand we're back! Oi, that was a terrible cliffhanger to leave you with last time... hopefully you all are still with me. 
> 
> Now that anatomy and biochem are out of the way, I should be able to work more consistently with this. The first semester of med school was tough, but I'm doing well so far! Hopefully I can chug out the rest of this before research and wedding planning kicks up. We've still got a few more chapters to go.


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